


How Diamonds are Made

by lazarusthefirst



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon verse, F/F, F/M, Future Fic, M/M, PWP, Public Sex, Spit-roasting, Stiles/everyone - Freeform, Threesome, probably not the pwp you're looking for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2312198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarusthefirst/pseuds/lazarusthefirst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, five times Derek caught Stiles having sex with someone in public + the one time Derek was that someone</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarcasticfishes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfishes/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a short pwp but eh.
> 
> The Derek m/f pairings are exclusive to ch. 5 and are purely sexual. There are no morals to be found, just lots of sex (also Malia and Derek are NOT related in this fic just btw bc no thanks). If that's not your thing then please exit stage right.
> 
> This is for [Alfie's](http://unfortunatelyderek.tumblr.com/) birthday, who once had a conversation with me during summer about that one time at SDCC '14 where Holland commented that Dylan was an exhibitionist, and it all got rather explicit from there. This fic was also due sometime around July but HERE WE ARE. There was supposed to be a laundromat scene in here somewhere but I couldn't quite fit it in, so I improvised

It was no secret to anyone that Stiles Stilinski liked sex. Scott would always firmly assert that Stiles hit “second-puberty” the second they graduated high school, going from insecure virgin to shameless, unpaid porn star all in the space of a few months. Stiles felt like he’d spent all of high school being chased by monsters, or, alternatively, chasing monsters himself, and his few, very brief sexual encounters had been tinged with “lets do this in case we die in the next few hours.” 

But once they sorted out a proper magical boundary line around Beacon Hills and tamed the nemeton so it didn’t bite them in the ass every few weeks, things calmed down for them. In fact they calmed down so much that everyone went a little wild from all the pent-up energy. Parties, drinking, and lots of sex. These casual but intimate encounters were somewhat frenzied and careless, as though they were all aware that they very easily might not have made it to graduation at all. Whenever Stiles made out with one of the pack at a nightclub, or went home with someone, or even did something as casual as holding hands or hugging, there was always a sense of _we might not have had this at all_. It became very easy, Stiles realised, to go home with someone for one night and not freak out about what it might mean afterwards, considering everything they’d had to freak out about in the past. They took comfort in each others presence, their friendships, and frequently their bodies, and it was fine. 

Stiles, however, they all maintained, took it to the next level.

Because for all that high school nearly killed him, Stiles also kind of missed it. The adrenalin rush of running for his life, the hectic late-night planning and sneaking into places they really shouldn’t be, the relief of surviving yet another encounter with a supernatural nasty … Well, it wasn’t everyone’s typical schooling experience, but it sure did get the blood flowing. 

And so what if this led to Stiles developing an extreme love of having sex in places where he could easily get caught? So what?

It was just a _huge coincidence_ that Derek kept catching him in the act. Honestly. 

 

* * *

 

‘Dude, I don’t know how you keep going after half an hour,’ Stiles complained, staggering after Scott on jelly-legs after a particularly brutal gym session. ‘It’s like I run for thirty minutes then _die_ , and I look over at you and you haven’t even broken a sweat!’ 

Scott shrugged, broad shoulders rising as Stiles followed him into the dressing room. ‘Werewolf, bro. You were doing pretty good, I thought.’

‘Yeah, because I knew I couldn’t quit that early,’ grumbled Stiles, collapsing on to a bench. ‘You’re my thinspiration, Scott. You’re either going to get me really fit, or actually kill me.’

‘If high school didn’t kill you, I don’t stand a chance,’ said Scott seriously. Then he winced. ‘Argh, cramp.’ He grabbed his thigh, pain contorting his expression

‘That’s what you get for showing off,’ Stiles told him promptly, leaning back and watching Scott limp to the bench. ‘Even werewolves get cramps.’ Scott sat down heavily and tried to massage his thigh, hissing in pain because he was doing it all wrong, as usual. 

‘You’re doing that all wrong, as usual. No that’s not - oh can you please stop doing it badly just because you want me to do it for you,’ Stiles sighed, exasperated, hauling himself off the bench and staggering over to Scott. The changing room was empty; their work and college schedules - and general laziness - meant they were often last in the gym. It suited Stiles - he didn’t mind Scott seeing him work himself into a gasping, sweaty mess, but when you’re surrounded by the typical hotties that frequented the morning and afternoon slots, it wasn’t ideal.  

‘You’re a terrible werewolf,’ Stiles muttered, kneeling at Scott’s feet and grabbing his thigh. The muscles felt tight and knotted under his fingers and Scott hissed at the first contact, but as he started to knead the kinks out, his head fell back to rest against the lockers, an almost blissful expression on his face.

‘Damn, that feels good,’ he muttered. ‘You should be a physiotherapist or something, Stiles. You’re so good with your hands.’

‘Not the first time I’ve heard that,’ Stiles replied quietly, grinning. There really wasn’t a lot to do here; Scott just hadn’t warmed down properly. 

Scott, as Stiles was aware, was extremely sensitive. He was the wrong person to play footsie with under the table at dinner, because he’d blush and jump and probably pop a boner. Not good if you’re Allison, bringing him home to meet the parents aged seventeen. _Great_ if you’re Stiles and antsy and want a little action. 

So Stiles casual let his hands slide further up Scott’s leg, keeping his eye on his face for a reaction. It didn’t take more than thirty seconds, Scott was _pathetic._  

‘Hey Stiles,’ Scott murmured. ‘Dangerous territory.’ But he didn’t open his eyes.

‘I know,’ replied Stiles, slipping one hand up Scott’s shorts. ‘You up for it?’

Scott’s eyes flew open. ‘Dude, here?’

Stiles shrugged, looking up at him as he lowered his mouth to Scott’s leg. He kissed the soft skin of his inner thigh, watching Scott’s mouth drop open slowly. This wasn’t the first time they’d done this, but even the first time had felt like the fifth or sixth; perks of being best friends for so long, Stiles supposed. Either way, Scott was one of those totally receptive and vocal guys who loved _everything_ and quickly dissolved into so much quivering muscle in Stiles’s capable hands. 

‘No one’s around,’ Stiles replied, sliding his hand further towards the fun parts, watching as Scott’s facial expression slipped from interested to _very_ interested, while secretly wishing that there _was_ someone around, because Scott blushed so cute. 

‘If you insist,’ murmured Scott, cracking one eye open to grin down at Stiles. ‘I won’t say no, but I do not understand what you get out of this.

‘What are you talking about,’ insisted Stiles, as he shifted himself into a more comfortable kneeling position. ‘I love helping out my friends. And you, Scott, seriously need to loosen up.’ His fingers found the warm, soft skin of Scott’s crotch and Stiles felt him stiffen briefly, fingers twitching, before relaxing into Stiles’s touch. 

Stiles could feel Scott’s dick hardening under his hand, through the soft material of his underwear. His fingers found the head and went to work, and Stiles watched Scott’s face alternate deliciously between anxious that someone might walk in, and anxious that he might come too soon (it was a frequent worry of Scott’s).

‘Plenty of time,’ murmured Stiles, palming his own erection absentmindedly. Truthfully he was hoping for the exact opposite of that statement.

‘You take so fucking long on purpose,’ Scott countered, fingers fluttering distractedly on the rim of the bench, not quite white-knuckle level yet. ‘Like that time you jerked me off in the cereal aisle. 

‘Good times.’

‘Seriously, hurry up,’ Scott said, doing his best to sound like he wasn’t affected. ‘I’m gonna fall asleep - oh god.’

Stiles grinned as he let his hands do the talking. Fall asleep, during one of _his_ handjobs? Please. Stiles withdrew his hand from the leg of the shorts only to reach up and take Scott’s red, wet dick out of his shorts. His fingers slid the length of the shaft, excruciatingly slowly, heart pounding at the thought that someone might come in. He could hear the sounds of people moving around outside. Scott’s breathing was loud, and quickening.

Stiles let his mouth graze the tip, smearing a bead of precome across his lips. Scott’s hands twitched, like they were aching to grab Stiles by the hair and force his mouth down. 

Stiles eyes flickered up until he caught Scott’s gaze and held it. Putty in his hands.

His hot mouth slipped over and down the shaft, corners stinging as he spread his lips for Scott’s cock. He adjusted his breathing deftly as Scott’s sped up, one hand was wrapped firmly around the shaft as his head bobbed up and down.

Scott liked a fast, hard blowjob, and Stiles was something of a perfectionist. 

The sound of heavy breathing mingled with the sporadic, wet pops of Stiles letting Scott’s cock slip out of his mouth filled the air, already heady with tension and the smell of sex. He let it poke into his cheek, because he knew Scott loved the look of the bulge, got off on the idea of him filling up Stiles’s mouth. As Scott started half-thrusting off the bench, Stiles let more of his cock slip down his throat, pinning his tongue and bumping the back of his throat. He breathed heavily through his nose as spit slicked the corners of his mouth and his chin. His mouth strained as his lips wet the base of Scott’s cock, nose brushing pubic hair, and Scott moaned softly. Stiles almost rolled his eyes. Too easy.

Normally at this point, when they were in private, Scott would start writhing and calling Stiles all kinds of filthy names. Something about his restraint in the locker room made Stiles even harder, and he rutted against Scott’s leg, suddenly desperate for his own relief. 

Stiles started making little aborted choking sounds; he could take it, but there was just so much of Scott in his mouth that it was difficult to do anything else _but_ take it. Scott’s fingers were gripping the edge of the bench now, and Stiles looked up at him until he caught Scott’s eye. He winked, their signal, and Scott’s hands leapt to Stiles’s hair, tightening as Stiles flicked his tongue as best he could on the underside of Scott’s dick. 

Scott let Stiles draw back, and Stiles drew a few deep breathes before nodding slightly. Scott thrust up into Stiles’s mouth, holding his head in place, the head of his dick hitting the back of his throat with force. Stiles opened his mouth as wide as he could and let Scott fuck his face, slipping his hand down his pants and jerking off as best he could. Scott’s hand was tight on the back of his head, the other slipping to the front to grab a handful of his hair, forcing his head lower. Stiles put his free hand on Scott’s leg, ready to squeeze if he ran out of air. 

The sound of sex was intoxicating; Stiles felt like he was swimming in it. Spit and precome mingled in his mouth, slipping down his chin and coating Scott’s dick. Their sweaty limbs were flash points of heat where they connected, skin hot and slick, and Scott’s desperate cut-off gasps, bare approximations of Stiles’s name, rang a perfect harmony to the noises filling Stiles’s ears, causing his limbs to tingle and his hand on his cock to quicken. 

Scott’s balls were hard beneath Stiles’s chin as he bottomed out in his mouth, forcing Stiles’s head down until he had every inch inside of him, and then thrusting up, rock hard between Stiles’s lips, until he came on the end of a particularly hard thrust. He held Stiles down as come spurted down his throat, and Stiles struggled to swallow it all as he came in his shorts, orgasm white hot and cramping his stomach. His cries were muffled around the seven inches in his mouth as Scott thrust weakly into him, the last few drops trickling hot down Stiles’s throat. Scott eased down and drew Stiles slowly off his dick, thin ribbons of come connecting them until Stiles sat back on his heels, breathing hard. He stared up at Scott, the beginnings of a smirk twitching his sore lips, as he licked the remains off his mouth.

‘Fuck,’ gasped Scott, sitting back with one hand on his stomach, looking wrecked. ‘Not to be a jerk or anything, but you could do this professionally, dude. That was - fuck - wow. You look fucking _amazing_ , Stiles.’

Stiles shrugged, feeling immensely satisfied. ‘I aim to please’ he said, voice hoarse. He winked at Scott. ‘And you are fucking beautiful like that, man.’

Scott leaned down to grab his face, and kissed him, hot and rough, making a little noise as he tasted himself on Stiles’s lips. Stiles let him, because Scott always got fond and romantic post-orgasms, and it was damn cute. 

‘You’re seriously the best bro,’ Scott said honestly, leaning back so he could tuck himself back in. ‘I’m just glad no one walked - '

Right on cue, the door banged open. Stiles’s heart jumped wildly; he couldn’t have planned it better. 

‘Sorry but we’re closing - oh for fuck’s sake.’ Derek’s eyebrows did the dance of fury, shooting up in surprise and then lowering in the glare of a lifetime. ‘Seriously? I _work here,_ Stiles!’

Stiles slipped his dick back into his shorts in at his leisure, hoping there were still traces on his face. Scott blushed and scrambled to his feet, rushing to their lockers to get their stuff while stammering mortified apologies, but Stiles took his sweet time. He stood up and stretched, turning to face Derek, who was still glaring from the door, but there was a definite red flush to his skin now as Stiles watched his eyes rake over the scene. Stiles deliberately licked his lips, and used his thumb to wipe off a stray smear of something on his chin. He cleaned his thumb - with his tongue, obviously - and smirked at Derek, just as Scott reappeared with their bags, shoving Stiles’s into his arms and muttering, ‘Sorry, we’re going, I’m sorry.’

‘If it wasn’t closing time I’d throw you out,’ snapped Derek, as they scurried past him. Well, Scott scurried. What Stiles did was more of a swagger. 

‘You could still try,’ Stiles chanced. 

‘Don’t tempt me,’ Derek snarled, breath suddenly hot on Stiles’s neck. Stiles shivered, and hurried after Scott. 

But Stiles always had to have the last word. ‘At least it wasn’t the grocery store this time, Derek,’ he threw over his shoulder, grinning at the sight of Derek’s face flushing a deep, red. His mouth opened in an attempt at a retort, but Stiles licked his lips again, and it was picture but no sound as the two escaped out the front doors. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles's text tone wasn't nearly enough to make him look up from his current occupation of going down on Malia, even when it beeped twice more in quick succession. The last beep was smothered by a groan from Malia, who was lying on her back on the couch, legs on Stiles's shoulders, iPad raised above her head.

'Yeah, this is definitely helping me to relax,' she sighed, as Stiles licked her clit lightly. He heard her swipe impatiently at the screen. 'But there's nothing here that makes me feel any better about tonight.'

'That’s the thing about small talk,' Stiles informed her, in between delicate kisses to her skin. 'You can't really read notes from a website on it. You've got to experience it first hand.'

'Is it like giving head?' she asked, looking down at him.

'It’s kind of like giving head,' Stiles agreed. 'All the tips in the world aren't gonna help you when you're in your best suit and faced with the most beautiful vagina you've ever seen - seriously, Malia, your parts could win you money,' he said fervently, breathing in her scent and savouring her growing wetness.

'I guess I could do that when I eventually get kicked out of Juilliard,' Malia said gloomily, setting down the iPad.

Stiles frowned and looked up at her. Malia looked good to go for the party, apart from her outfit of barely a towel. She'd been tense ever since Stiles arrived to help her prep for some high-quality professor-schmoozing at Lydia's award ceremony, which, although Lydia went to Colombia, was being held at Juilliard on account of the orchestra being very fussy about where they had to lug their instruments. As a result, half the musical faculty would be there, including the ones that were of the opinion that Malia's prodigious piano and composition skills were only half the requirement, and frowned hard at her lack of coursework turned in.

'They’re not going to kick you out,' Stiles said firmly. 'You're too good.'

'They can still give me a low grade,' Malia said, sounding more and more wound up, and not in the good way. Stiles shimmied out from underneath her smooth legs and sat back. Malia pushed herself into a sitting position and eyed him, waiting for a speech of some sort.

But Stiles only shrugged. 'Malia, you're just gonna have to let them talk to you. Just reply back what you think they want to hear, and you'll be fine.'

Malia sighed, bare shoulders slumping. 'I guess. Thanks for this, by the way,' she gestured to her crotch. 'It did help, a bit.'

'Not too exciting, was it?' asked Stiles, a trifle guilty. Had he spent too much time waxing lyrical about her bomb pussy instead of putting his tongue to more penetrative use? Malia liked it rough, rather than contemplative.

'Guess we both need practice,' Malia said, rolling her eyes as Stiles waggled his tongue experimentally. 'And I prefer fingers, actually.'

Her phone rang, and she rose smoothly off the couch as Stiles stared after her.

'Seriously?' he called, as Malia upended her purse to find her elusive cell.

'Yeah, yours are great,' she assured him, focused on her search. Stiles looked at his hands with new appreciation as she got hers on the phone. 'These skinny guys?' he murmured, wiggling his fingers as Malia's voice floated out to him.

'Hi Derek - you're WHERE? Fuck!'

Malia sprinted back in, towel flying. 'The taxi's here, Derek's outside, you should have _answered - your - phone_!' She punctuated each word with whip of her towel. Stiles cowered on the couch beneath the onslaught, protecting his eyes despite her unashamed nakedness because Malia with any kind of weaponised item was lethal.

'Fix my purse,' she yelled at him, before skidding into her bedroom. Stiles rolled up off the couch and dutifully assembled everything she'd tossed from said purse. By the time Malia stalked out of her room in towering heels and a tiny black and gold dress with long sleeves and a low-cut round neck, Stiles was straightening his tie at the door and holding out her purse like he hadn't been eating her out ten minutes previous.

'You look awesome,' Stiles said, because she did.

'Thanks, the dress is Lydia's but the legs are all mine,' Malia replied, like she always did when someone complimented her. It was a point of pride for her that she could walk in anything, no matter how high. She had effortless physical grace, despite her somewhat lacklustre social skills.

Derek was indeed waiting for them outside. He glared at them both as he got back into the passenger seat. 'Answer your phone next time,' he snapped at Stiles.

'You look like James Bond, Derek,' Stiles replied, sliding in to the backseat after Malia. She was stretching her legs out behind the driver, and fiddling nervously with her purse. Stiles quickly put a hand over hers.

'Where to next?' the driver inquired of Derek.

'Juilliard,' he replied shortly. He craned his neck back to glare at the two of them huddled together. 'If we're late I'll tell Lydia it was your fault.'

‘I’m holding her dress hostage, she can't touch me,' retorted Malia. The driver pulled out on to the busy street, and they immediately encountered traffic.

‘We have plenty of time,’ Stiles assured Malia, in the most soothing tone he could manage. ‘Are you gonna play something tonight?’

‘That’s the plan,’ she said nervously. ‘They requested it, actually. Well, it was more of a demand.’

Stiles frowned. ‘What did they say?’

Malia shifted uncomfortably. ‘Uh, Jefferson said something like “Malia, if you play something amazing that’ll make the school look great on Friday night, I won’t fail you for all the assignments you’ve missed”?’

Stiles closed his eyes briefly. ‘That’s - that’s good. You’re amazing, you’re the best one there. You’ll blow them away.’

Malia tossed her head. ‘I’m not worried about that,’ she insisted. ‘It’s the talking before and after that’s got me all squirmy.’ Malia was rarely uncomfortable about anything, but piano was something she cared desperately about - it was the most important thing in the word to her, and now her lack of social etiquette was threatening its safety.

She was jigging her leg up and down, and Stiles grabbed it to make her stop. She arched an eyebrow at him, and Stiles knew that look. He wasn’t the only one that enjoyed a little risk sometimes. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, knuckles brushing the window before curling around her arm. The other he slipped up her smooth inner thigh before finding -

‘Er, did you forget something?’ he asked quietly, tapping on her bare skin for emphasis.

Malia’s eyes widened. ‘Oh god,’ she breathed. ‘Fuck. This is your fault.’

Stiles bit his lip, trying not to laugh. ‘It’s ok, no one will know. And I guess it’s kind of helpful ...’ He remembered what Malia had said about his fingers.

‘What are you saying?’ Derek asked, sounding suspicious. ‘Stiles - ‘

He turned around in his seat, and from the way his eyebrows shot up, he probably got a very good look at Stiles helping Malia to relax in the best way he could.

‘Oh my god,’ he said loudly, and Stiles shot him a glare because he didn’t actually want to get kicked out of the taxi. Malia, heedless, grabbed Stiles’s hand to help out with the awkward angle.

‘Everything ok back there?’ the driver asked, glancing at Derek, who flushed.

‘Uh ...’

‘Everything’s fine,’ Stiles said smoothly. ‘Derek just got an eyeful of Malia’s shoes. He loves shoes, don’t you Derek? Kind of an obsession, at this stage.’

‘Really?’ asked the driver, looking at Derek with interest. Derek looked like he was being forced to swallow spiders.

‘Yes,’ he replied, voice like ice. ‘Love them.’

‘Women’s shoes, specifically,’ Stiles clarified, slipping another finger into Malia and scissoring them experimentally. Malia bit her lip and tried to lift her leg over Stiles’s. ‘And Malia is rocking a particularly gorgeous pair tonight. Here, look.’

He tapped Malia’s knee, who quickly got the message. She extended one long leg into the front of the cab, nearly poking out Derek’s eye on the end of one pointed heel. He jerked back, an interesting look of anger and shock on his face, as the driver examined the proffered footwear.

‘They’re very nice,’ he agreed. ‘You can walk in those? You must have excellent balance.’

‘Yeah, I’m a pro,’ Malia said, pleasure colouring her voice as she withdrew her leg to place it comfortably over Stiles’s. She was effectively sitting in his lap now, hidden from the rearview mirror and the driver’s eyes, but in the perfect position for Derek’s very embarrassed diagonal view. If he chose to look back, that is, which he was very determinedly not doing.

Stiles was working on sending a text with one hand and fingering Malia with the other, which she was not impressed with.

‘I thought you were gonna help me practise,’ she hissed out of the corner of her mouth, as his movements slowed.

‘Trust me, this is helping you too,’ Stiles informed her, selecting Kira’s name and sending the text. ‘Now, where were we ...’

‘Shoes,’ supplied the driver. ‘I have to confess, I’m something of an expert myself. Those are Louboutin’s, am I right?’

Malia looked perplexed. Stiles didn’t know either, but poor Derek, who looked like he was trying to think of anything to say that didn’t involve vaginas, said vaguely, ‘Those are the ones with the red soles, aren’t they?’

Stiles and Malia looked at each other incredulously.

‘Yes, that’s them,’ confirmed the driver, sounding pleased. ‘Pretty expensive too, if you don’t mind my saying so, hon.’

‘I don’t mind at all,’ said Malia dreamily, as Stiles rubbed his thumb over her clit and nosed at her neck silently.

‘They really are nice shoes,’ he murmured appreciatively, contemplating trying a third finger and hoping that the driver would keep talking because he was anticipating further sound effects shortly.

‘My daughter designs shoes,’ the driver informed Derek, who was pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘She just got accepted to fashion school last week actually.’

‘Congratulations,’ said Derek.

‘Yep, submitted her portfolio the day before the deadline, can you believe it?’

‘Oh god, that’s so tight,’ breathed Stiles, feeling Malia’s legs tense as he added a third finger. She was soaking, and trembling on his lap, her eyes shut and her mouth half open in wordless pleasure.

‘I know, right?’ the driver agreed. ‘I told her not to leave it so late. She’s very interested in Jimmy Choo’s designs. Do you like his work?’ This directed at Derek, who was looking like his suit was suddenly way too tight.

‘Love him,’ he croaked, skin roughly the same colour as the soles of Malia’s shoes.

‘Me too,’ agreed the driver. ‘She told me she might even get to do some work experience with his label.’

‘Oh fuck, that’s so good!’ Malia gasped, gripping Stiles’s arm and almost bucking right off his lap as Stiles scissored his fingers roughly inside her. Her fingers were bruising his skin; he nipped her neck in retaliation.

‘Well, yes it is!’ laughed the driver. ‘It’s a great opportunity. You like him too, hon?’

‘God yes,’ breathed Malia, as Stiles slipped his hand down inside her dress to cup her breast. Her nipple was hard beneath his fingers, and he rubbed it in time with the motion of his fingers. ‘Yes, that’s my favourite - favourite one.’

‘Are we nearly there?’ asked Derek, sounding close to tears.

‘Mm hmm,’ replied the driver.

‘We’re really close,’ stammered Malia. ‘Just - so close, oh god.’

‘Well, we’ve a few more minutes of traffic to navigate. Are you excited for your big night?’ asked the driver, kindly.

Malia muffled a shriek into Stiles’s jacket. ‘It’s gonna be great!’ she cried, as Stiles felt his hand start to cramp. He refused to let up, now that he’d found a rhythm she seemed to love. Sex was like music for Malia; hard and fast and lots of it, and preferably loud.

‘Well she sounds very excited,’ the driver remarked to Derek, amused.

‘She’s about to have the time of her life,’ Stiles assured them, as her body started to really tense up, a sure sign that she was about to come.

Meanwhile, the driver was talking designs with Derek.

‘She has a great sketch of these strappy things, with little studs on the toe. Very high though, my wife calls ‘em “swinging around a pole” shoes, if you’ll pardon the insinuation.’

‘They sound lovely,’ whispered Derek.

‘And there’s another pair, now these ones are great; they have a little bow on the front, and the heel is bright pink - ‘

‘FUCK.’ Malia arched her back as her orgasm hit her, fingers scraping Stiles’s shoulder and digging into his thigh. Derek immediately started having a coughing fit as the driver broke off mid-sentence.

‘What? What is it?’ he asked, immediately alert.

‘Those shoes just sound so fucking good.’ Malia saved the day with a happy sigh, sinking back down on to Stiles’s lap as he whipped out his pocket square (which was just an artfully folded hanky) and surreptitiously began to clean her up. She softly kissed his throat as he held her through the aftershocks, her warm body shuddering in his arms.

‘Yes, they’re lovely,’ said the driver, calm restored. ‘You’ll be seeing them in stores in a few years, I have no doubt.’

‘You alright there, Derek?’ asked Stiles, as he shoved the hanky into his back pocket.

‘Migraine,’ replied Derek hoarsely, who had his head in his hands.

‘Maybe you shouldn’t have come,’ quipped Stiles.

‘I’m so glad I came,’ grinned Malia, palming Stiles’s crotch. ‘And I loved hearing Derek’s thoughts on shoes. And yours, sir,’ she added, to the back of the driver’s seat.

‘Well I’m glad you brought it up,’ the driver said graciously to Derek. ‘It’s nice to have something to talk about with your passengers.’

‘Thanks for bringing it up, Derek.’

‘Yeah, thanks for bringing it up.’ Stiles caught Derek’s eye as he finally glanced into his own passenger side mirror. Stiles smirked at him as Malia slid down in her seat until she was half on the floor. The sound of his zipper sliding down was lost to Stiles’s ears, and thankfully the driver’s too, but he licked his lips as her hands and mouth found his cock. Derek’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t look away as Malia took him into her mouth.

Stiles was already rock hard, and barely needed any attention from Malia’s clever mouth, but fuck was it good. The car stank of sex; it was intoxicating, at least to Stiles and Malia. Derek’s skin was still very flushed. The cab driver continued to talk about shoes, and his daughter.

‘She sounds like she’d be a good match for you, Derek,’ Stiles commented, fingers itching to grab Malia’s hair but not daring to in case it messed up some secret alignment of hair product that was keeping it so perfect.

‘I could give her your number,’ the driver replied seriously, and Stiles sucked in a breath as Malia’s fingers caressed his balls.

‘Thanks, but I - I’m - ‘ Derek didn’t seem to know what he was. His hands were clenched on his knees.

‘My mistake,’ said the driver politely. ‘Didn’t mean to pry, son.’

The soft sucking sounds coming from Stiles’s crotch were muffled by a blare of horns and general mayhem as they neared the school. The only time Stiles broke eye contact with Derek the whole time was when Malia licked just the right spot at the right time and he came suddenly down her throat. He worried briefly about her black dress before his brain whited out. He made a quiet noise of pleasure and relief, and thought he heard some sort of noise from Derek too, but when he opened his eyes again Malia was sitting up, spotless, deftly reapplying lipstick and patting her hair and looking somehow better than when she’d left the apartment.

The lights of Juilliard were on their left, and the driver had apparently taken Stiles’s noise for one of relief that they’d arrived on time.

‘Hasn’t started yet, by the looks of things,’ he was saying, peering out the passenger window. ‘Now, everyone, that’ll be - ‘

‘Keep the change,’ growled Derek, thrusting a crumpled bill at the driver and practically bolting out the door.

‘You know, he must be just really eager to get a look at all the shoes on display,’ Stiles explained, as he hastily retucked his shirt. ‘You know, before the women have to go in and sit down.’

‘Wow,’ the driver said, looking impressed. ‘That’s dedication. Well, have a great night.’

‘Thanks!’ Stiles said warmly, opening the door and holding it for Malia. ‘You were an awesome cab driver.’

‘The best,’ agreed Malia, sliding out after him.

Stiles could see Kira waiting on the top steps with a group of their friends, eye-catching in a scarlet dress.

‘Wonder what shoes Kira’s wearing,’ Malia murmured, fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

‘I’m sure Derek can tell us later,’ Stiles replied, squeezing her arm and winking. ‘Also, Kira has something for you. Something that should make sitting down at the piano tonight a lot more comfortable.’

‘What does she - ?’ Malia’s eyes widened as she took in Stiles’s meaningful look. ‘Oh god, Stiles. I owe you another blowjob.’

Stiles rolled his eyes. ‘You don’t owe me anything,’ he said, tugging her up the steps. ‘You feel more calm now though, right?’

Malia laughed, tossing her hair. ‘If I can keep up a conversation with a cab driver while you’re finger-fucking me in the back seat, I can convince a room full of professors who are all in love with me anyways that failing me would be a very stupid thing to do.’

‘That’s my girl,’ Stiles beamed, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Malia squeezed his hand one more time, before traipsing elegantly up the steps to meet Kira, bringer of underwear, who was blushing but looking faintly amused.

Stiles dug out his phone to text Scott and see if he was there yet - being very careful not to dislodge the aforementioned hanky - but was distracted by Derek. He was lurking just inside the doors, oblivious of Malia and Kira passing him by, and shooting daggers at Stiles. Derek was so boring, Stiles reflected. Hot, but vanilla. He probably fucked in a bed with his socks still on. Which was nice, every once in a while. But Stiles’s heart was still racing from the cab; that whole journey was now on his top ten experiences ever. Fuck, he could write sonnets about that journey. Derek’s skin hadn’t quite faded back to his usual pale, and his suit still looked a bit too tight. Stiles smirked. Well, maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d remember this cab journey with more a little fondness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies to anyone who works in an IKEA

Stiles was still basking in his afterglow of his little stunt in the taxi a week later. So much so that he hadn't even bothered to get laid since then. Malia was great, and probably would have said yes, but there was something about the way Derek had refused to break eye contact with Stiles the entire time she went down on him that kept Stiles grinning at random moments throughout the week.

'You're creeping people out,' Malia remarked. Stiles wiped his expression quickly, noticing the customers nearest to him staring.

‘And this label looks wrong,' she continued critically, surveying her own handwriting. The latest in a series of dazzlingly stupid computer errors had meant all the latest prices on their furniture were wrong, and as the grunt employees, Stiles, Malia, Scott, and Isaac were charged with handwriting a bunch of temporary signs with prices and descriptions. It was just unfortunate that they worked in an IKEA.

'Its fine,' Stiles assured her, looking over her shoulder. Malia was extremely self-conscious about her handwriting. She'd spent a long time learning how to write and spell, and had been determined to develop a personal signature before starting high school. Signature only, though, that was all. That and music notes were all she was good at writing comfortably.

'The "apologies" doesn't look wonky?'

'Nope.'

Malia nodded. 'Good,' she said, snapping the lid back on her marker. 'How many more?'

Stiles looked at her. 'We're still in the low hundreds, Malia.'

She sighed. 'I should have taken that job at the club with the others,' she said gloomily.

'Well, you were the one who said it would be pretentious and boring,' Stiles reminded her, scribbling down another price. 'And you can't play or teach tennis, anyways.'

'I can make drinks,' Malia pointed out.

'Inventing your own drinks from leftover liquor after parties does not count. Regardless of how good they taste.'

‘Well at least that’s two things I’m good at,’ said Malia, hefting the bag of signs so they could move on to the next section. ‘Piano, and getting people drunk.’

‘You’re good at lots of things,’ Stiles insisted, grabbing the tablet with the list of correct prices and following her into bathrooms. ‘Those just happen to be two of the best things.’

Working in IKEA was like working in Stiles’s ultimate fantasy playground. It had been a long time since he’d first dreamt up an “Around the house in 80 sex positions” game, and seeing literally every conceivable item of furniture on a four times weekly basis for over a year had provided him with some very creative and tempting ways to get laid. He’d attempted a few with Scott and Malia, and once Lydia, but these had involved more alcohol and laughter than orgasms so he didn’t really count those experiments as legitimate tails on the donkey. He eyed the first washing machine and dryer set on his left. Just around waist height, he guessed.

‘Would you say that washing machine is around my waist height?’ he asked. 

‘Sometimes I forget which once of us was raised in the forest,’ Malia said, frowning.

 

Stiles and Isaac drew the short straws for staying late to take _down_ all the signs that night. By the time he got home and showered, it was 10pm, and he was late for the pack meeting at Derek’s. The meetings weren’t really meetings, more like a weekly checkup to see if anyone was experiencing any hauntings, memory loss, hallucinations, or any of the other assorted supernatural ailments that generally spelled trouble in their experience. Ever since they’d all moved up to New York - Lydia and Allison immediately upon graduating, Scott, Isaac, Stiles, Malia, and Kira that fall, with Derek trailing along behind them in October “because you’ll probably all die without me anyways” - they’d been having regular meetings. Stiles was at NYU with everyone bar Malia, who was at Juilliard, and Lydia, who was at Colombia, and Derek was taking night classes (in what, he wouldn’t say). And they all had a lot of sex and didn’t talk about Beacon Hills any day of the week except for meetings, and it worked. 

Isaac was on the phone outside the station when Stiles arrived. It was September, and Stiles was feeling happily justified in taking the night off to hang out with his friends and probably get quite drunk and not make it home. He was feeling restless again. 

‘What’s up?’ 

Isaac looked consternated, and didn’t reply. Stiles could hear the tinny sounds of Scott’s voice on the other end of the conversation.

‘Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Isaac sighed, hanging up. Stiles quirked an eyebrow. 

‘Lovers quarrel?’

‘Shut up,’ said Isaac impatiently. ‘We’re already late. And Scott’s not coming.’

‘What? Why?’ That wasn’t like Scott. The meetings had been his idea, and he’d been an adamant enforcer of the “lowdown before the get down” rule, which meant no one could start on the booze before they’d rattled off any and all signs of supernatural abnormalities in their lives since last they all met. 

‘Has to study,’ Isaac replied, shortly. ‘He says.’

Stiles idly kicked the step. ‘You’re not happy.’

‘I haven’t seen him in a few days,’ admitted Isaac. ‘Outside of work, I mean.’

‘And by “seen”, you mean …?’

‘Shut up, Stiles.’

Stiles rolled his eyes as they headed inside the overheated station. He dug out his metrocard and passed through the barriers with a few other stragglers.

‘Dude, there is nothing in Scott’s life that I have not lived though via his _very_ honest and descriptive texts,’ he joked. ‘I know you made out at the after’s of Lydia’s ceremony.’

‘Yeah well, _everyone_ knows that now,’ said Isaac, sounding annoyed as he caught up to him, fingers tapping irritably against his leg. 

‘Dude, you ripped a bunch of Malia’s composition notes,’ Stiles pointed out. ‘I’m surprised she left your organs intact. Did you _have_ to choose the one room in the entire academy where she composes?’

‘They both like a view,’ sighed Isaac. ‘Should have known.’

‘And I know that wasn’t the first time you guys got your freak on either,’ continued Stiles, grinning. He had him on the ropes now; Isaac was blushing but determinedly pretending not to be.

‘So what?’ he said carelessly. ‘You’re one to talk.’

‘I am not in love with Scott.’

‘I - ‘ Isaac stopped, mouth snapping shut. ‘Neither am I,’ he finished lamely. Stiles rolled his eyes, but let Isaac get away with that one.

‘It’s just that it was fine before, when we were just having fun with it,’ Isaac muttered, nettled. ‘Now that we’re both kind of more into it, it’s just confusing. And I know no one in the pack really does exclusive anymore. It’s easier, I get it. We all have too much history to make shit work.’

Stiles frowned. Yeah, that had been the original party line. ‘Allison and Lydia do ok.’

‘That’s different,’ Isaac said firmly. ‘And Scott’s had sex with them literally dozens of times.’

Stiles smirked. ‘So have I.’

‘I _know_.’

Stiles laughed. ‘So what’s your point, Isaac?’

Isaac opened his mouth, then shut it again as two girls got on the train. Stiles rolled his eyes, but decided to take pity, for the sake of Scott’s sex life.

‘My point is,’ said Isaac quietly, after they settled down on the train, ‘I don’t wanna fuck it up by - ‘

‘Fucking him?’

Isaac glared. ‘Yeah, thanks Stiles.’

‘Scott’s kind of like a puppy,’ Stiles said, stretching his legs out across the floor. ‘He needs love. He’s not a cold-hearted sex maniac like you or I.’ He watched Isaac’s expression in the train window opposite them. ‘He was so wound up the other day at the gym that I thought he was gonna start writing you sonnets on the condensation in the mirrors,’ Stiles continued, dramatically. ‘I had to blow him in the locker room to get him to relax.’ 

‘Oh yeah, I heard about that,’ Isaac commented drily, not sounding too impressed. ‘Bet it was _such_ an inconvenience for you.’

Stiles raised his eyebrows. Maybe it was because there were only a couple of people in their train carriage but Isaac was full of vinegar again. 

‘You heard?’ Stiles asked. ‘From Derek or Scott?’

Isaac frowned. ‘Scott. What do you mean, Derek?’

Stiles shrugged, smiling faintly at the memory. Of course Scott would be too mortified to tell Isaac what happened with Derek. ‘Ah, he walked in on the clean-up.’ 

Isaac snorted. ‘Nice, free show. Did he say thanks, at least?’

‘Threw us out, actually. Did Scott talk me up?’

‘What the fuck do you think?’ Isaac didn’t sound too happy. Stiles’s grin stretched. ‘Like what you heard, Lahey?’

‘Why does Scott get such special treatment?’ Isaac asked, crossing his ankles and staring back at Stiles in the opposite window. ‘I’ve heard way too much about your pretty mouth.’

Stiles nodded. ‘Cos Scott’s my bro.’

‘I’m your bro!’

Stiles turned to look at him. ‘You couldn’t even say that with a straight face.’

Isaac sighed and muttered about injustice, shifting around on his seat as Stiles laughed. 

The rest of their journey was uneventful, apart from Stiles staring idly at Isaac’s crotch in the window reflection and wondering what it would take to get Isaac to start hitting on him. Probably not much. Isaac wasn’t much of a challenge. Stiles had had practically everyone - except Derek - and even though Isaac was as of yet unexplored territory (apart from the occasional drunken fumble), he’d seen the way Isaac looked at him sometimes. It was mostly a slightly derisive, “I wish I could put your loud mouth to better use” stare (Isaac had actually said that to him once), but it still counted. 

Derek’s building was right around the corner from the station. Workmen lounged outside smoking and chatting, and Stiles was just thinking of a way to quickly embarrass Isaac and get that pretty blush back when Isaac said, ‘So what does Scott like?’

‘Why, you getting him a present?’ Stiles quipped.

‘Oh I’d like to give him something,’ said Isaac quietly. The hallway was dimly lit and there were construction signs propped up against the wall that neither of them paid attention to. 

‘So, you’re looking for the cheat codes to Scott’s dick?’ Stiles asked, pressing the elevator button repeatedly.

‘I’m big enough to admit that.’ The elevator dinged.

Stiles smirked at him. ‘Hope so.’ He strode into the elevator after glancing meaningfully down at Isaac’s crotch, as though he hadn’t taken the hint. Isaac followed him with a hungry expression on his face

‘Maybe you could show me some time?’ Isaac suggested, as the doors closed. They were standing a bit closer than was strictly necessary, and Stiles’s stomach was getting warm.

‘I dunno,’ Stiles said, as the elevator began to ascend. ‘How fast are you?’

Isaac’s head jerked, and Stiles looked slowly up at him. The tension suddenly jacked up. Isaac’s eyes were fixed on Stiles’s mouth.

Suddenly the elevator ground to a halt. Derek lived on the fifth floor, and they’d only just passed the third. Stiles frowned at the doors. 

‘Well that’s not right,’ he muttered. 

Before they could do anything about it, a voice came out of the speakers. It was an automated warning about the elevator stalling between floors due to a maintenance issue. 

‘No shit,’ muttered Isaac. 

Then a very disgruntled male voice crackled to life.

‘H-hello? Hello? Eh, sorry guys. We’ve had to disable the elevator to do some work. I guess you guys didn’t see the signs, huh?’

Stiles scrambled over to the com system, Isaac directly behind him. He ran his fingers over the buttons before finding the microphone button and mashed it before Isaac impatiently mashed his hand out of the way and pressed it for him.

‘Uh, what sign?’ Stiles said loudly, unsure where the hell his voice was supposed to be going.

The man sighed. ‘Right, ok. Uh, where are you going?’

Stiles was about to say “pack meeting,” but Isaac thankfully beat him to the answer. 

‘Fifth floor. Apartment 33.’

‘Right, we’ll buzz up and let them know. You guys just sit tight.’

‘Uh, for how long?’ It was rather warm in the elevator.

‘We’ll have to reset it. Could be about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. You guys gonna be ok in there?’

Stiles looked up at Isaac. He was standing over Stiles, one hand pressing the button, bracketing Stiles into the corner. His chest was brushing Stiles’s back, and Stiles shivered slightly as their eyes met.

‘Yeah, we’ll be fine,’ Stiles said, not breaking eye contact. Isaac let his hand fall from the button.

Stiles turned to face him, and in one smooth movement Isaac backed him into the wall, arms coming up on either side of him, appraising. Stiles met his gaze evenly, though he was starting to shake with desire now. 

‘You up for a lesson, Isaac?’ Stiles murmured, eyes flickering down to Isaac’s lips. 

Isaac didn’t reply, but one hand slid over Stiles’s shoulder to his neck, thumb over Stiles’s pulse. He swallowed. 

‘Because, you know.’ Stiles raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not sure if you’re good enough to receive my tutelage.’ His eyes burned into Isaac’s. ‘I’m gonna have to see your moves first.’

There was a beat, and then they both moved. Their mouths met in a rush of heat and a muffled gasp as Isaac’s hands dropped heavily to Stiles’s shoulders. Isaac was soft but demanding on Stiles; he took the lead immediately, lips shaping Stiles’s as their noses bumped and their breathing hitched. Stiles found his own hands creeping to Isaac’s slim waist, grabbing to see if he jumped. He was not disappointed. 

‘You’re jumpy,’ Stiles murmured against his mouth, as Isaac’s mouth went to his jaw. ‘That’s good. Scott’s grabby, he likes a reaction.’

Isaac paused briefly, before moving down to Stiles’s neck and beginning work on a vicious hickey. Stiles’s mouth dropped open as the sharp pleasure-pain knifed right down to his groin. One hand slipped away from Isaac’s body to palm the cool elevator wall behind him. 

‘Oh, fuck,’ he groaned quietly, as Isaac knocked his legs apart with one knee, slotting their bodies together. 

‘Heard you liked this,’ Isaac murmured, before licking a stripe over the bruise. Stiles tilted his crotch slightly so they were rubbing together, letting Isaac know there was a situation that required attention.

‘In case you forgot,’ he huffed, trying to concentrate on being sarcastic when Isaac was mouthing up his neck again, ‘Scott has just come off the back of a truly world-class blowjob.’ Isaac nosed the hollow of his collarbone, one hand tracing up the side of his neck to his hair where it clenched, tugging his head sideways to expose more neck. 

‘So you’d better … you’d better - _uhh,_ fuck - you’d better get on with that, you know.’

Isaac drew back, eyes sparkling dangerously. ‘Are you asking me to get on my knees, Stilinski?’

‘Thought you wanted instruction,’ Stiles breathed. ’I’m _telling_ you to, Lahey.’

Only because Stiles was so horny he felt dizzy and Isaac has a sub complex a goddamn mile wide that no amount of swagger and smirking could cover up did Stiles feel confident enough to order Isaac downtown.  

Even though he looked ready to bend Stiles over right then and there, Isaac pulled back and went to his knees, head at the perfect height for Stiles to sink his hands into those gorgeous curls and mess around while Isaac got his zipper down and started to set things free.

‘Not sure if I should be asking how you like it or how Scott likes it,’ Isaac commented, as though he were debating leaving the house without an umbrella. 

‘Not that I’d mind, so long as it got the job done,’ Stiles remarked as he tried to keep it together but _damn_ those fingers knew what to do. ‘But you should be keeping your mind on the job. Focus on the penis you have, instead of the penis you wish you had. You are not satisfied until the customer is satisfied.’

‘You really want that promotion at work, don’t you.’

‘God yes, it keeps me up at night,’ Stiles said, closing his eyes and letting his head thud back against the wall. 

Isaac jerked his jeans down a little roughly, and Stiles wondered if he’d have to talk his way through this until _woah_ and _nope_ and Isaac was sucking him right down his throat, long fingers touching him roughly everywhere and suddenly Stiles was the one hanging on for dear life as Isaac had clearly taken this as a goddamn challenge. 

Stiles’s big mouth was now getting him in trouble with an even bigger mouth; bluff appropriately called, Isaac proceeded to wreak havoc, tongue scribbling cursive nonsense on the underside of Stiles’s dick as he took more of him steadily down his throat. Tiny, muted slurping and gagging noises filled the elevator, magnified in Stiles’s overstimulated brain, and his fingers gripped the bar behind him. Scott had been resisting this? _Why?_

 _‘_ Can you take all of me?’ Stiles panted, thrusting slightly into Isaac’s mouth, and then a little more firmly when Isaac shuffled to accommodate the pressure. ‘Fuck, your mouth is a _sin_.’

Isaac made a small noise of amusement, fingers creeping underneath to cradle Stiles’s balls and slide around in the slick space between sack and crack. The contact was a bit too much for Stiles at this late stage in the game. Unlike Scott, he was content to let Isaac do all of the work, just so long as he got to _feel_ it - his fingers were still caressing Isaac’s head, albeit weakly, and now they tightened as he felt the big finish approaching.

‘Fuck, I’m close,’ he whispered, as Isaac switched to the devastating tactic of letting Stiles’s cock pound the back of his throat. The sensation was mind-melting; the corner’s of Stiles’s vision were getting dark. ‘You gonna swallow, Isaac? You gonna take it? Scott loves that, he loves when you swallow every bit he gives you.’

Isaac made a noise that sounded like what “Oh fuck” sounds like when you have a dick in your mouth, and pressed closer to Stiles, fingers wrapping around the shaft for a few half-strokes, and then Stiles was coming, hot and fast and oh god if his knees didn’t almost buckle. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck as Isaac swallowed, stroking him through the business end of the blowjob like a goddamn pro. Stiles was wrecked, and Isaac’s triumphant smile when he stood up, wiping delicately at the corner of his mouth, promised retribution. 

‘Turn around,’ he said hoarsely, and Stiles barely had time to straighten up before Isaac was manhandling him, flipping him and pressing up close so Stiles could feet the heavy heat of his boner against his ass. Stiles gripped the handrail and shivered as Isaac’s hands slipped under his shirt and roamed across his hips and down to grab his exposed ass. Isaac kissed his neck, hot and wet.

‘God, what I would do to you,’ he whispered, fingers slipping into Stiles’s crack and dragging up, making Stiles tremble. That hard heat was still pressed against him, and Stiles just wanted him to _do something_.

But when Isaac started to unzip and produce the goods, one fingers still roaming around Stiles’s ass, he paused. 

‘Woah, Lahey,’ he breathed, still working on being fully comprehensible. ‘You had your shots?’

Isaac snickered. ‘I’m clean. I want to fuck your friend, remember?’

Despite the entire premise of this after-school special, Stiles bristled. ‘You wanna fuck me?’

Isaac bit his neck, and Stiles shuddered, breath catching in his throat. 

‘I would _love_ to fuck you,’ Isaac murmured. ‘But I feel like our time here is almost up.’

Stiles bit his lip. ‘You mean with the elevator repair guys, or Little Isaac?’

Isaac ground against his ass at the same times as echoes of male conversation floated up from below.

‘Oh god, both, both,’ they stammered together, voices tinged with desperation.

‘Your ass is so good, though,’ moaned Isaac, shifting around and _hopefully_ getting that dick ready for whatever he had in mind. 

‘Go ahead,’ Stiles breathed, almost sporting a semi at this stage. ‘You’ve done good. I’m so _good_ right now. I might even teach you after all.’

Isaac’s cock suddenly poked him in the ass, and Stiles tried not to clench as Isaac rubbed off between his crack, tensing when he accidentally prodded his hole but otherwise thoroughly enjoying the sound and sensation of Isaac going to pieces over a piece of prime Stilinski real estate. 

‘Great, now I’ve got spunk all over my back,’ Stiles complained half-heartedly as Isaac straightened up. 

‘You love it.’

Stiles smiled, satisfied, as they they tucked and zipped. There was indeed a significant amount of come on his ass and lower back - Isaac was a messy son of a bitch - but Stiles wasn’t too concerned. ‘I can wash up in Derek’s,’ he said, easily. 

‘Everyone’s gonna smell,’ Isaac commented. 

‘Gonna smell your breath first,’ Stiles smirked. ‘Besides, I _highly_ doubt I’ll be the only one smelling like come in Derek’s apartment. And it won’t be a first for anyone.’

A green light flashed on the elevator display, and with a heavy _clunk_ , it began to move again.

‘You think they heard us?’ Isaac asked suddenly. 

Stiles snorted. ‘Nah, not a chance.’

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Stiles spent a long time after that night wishing he had werewolf reflexes, because the look on Isaac’s face when the doors opened to reveal Scott standing there, pizza boxes in hand, must have been something very special.

‘Uh … hey guys. Hope you’re, um, hungry.’ Scott’s face was turning very red, and Stiles could practically _feel_ the heat radiating off the shamed Isaac beside him.

Stiles rolled his shoulders happily. ‘Hey Scotty, glad you decided to show after all!’ He bounded forward, popped open the lid of the top box and ripped out a slice of what happily turned out to be pineapple and sweetcorn. ‘Mm, my favourite. Come on, lets get going.’

He bounded past Scott, who was spluttering, and Derek, who was a few steps behind him and holding two more pizza boxes, looking thunderstruck. 

‘I should start charging you,’ he said, pointing accusatorially at Derek with the hand not holding the pizza slice. ‘All these free shows are gonna start costing you, Derek.’

Stiles didn’t, however, need werewolf hearing in order to catch Derek muttering, ‘They already are.’

 


	4. Chapter 4

Derek couldn’t take his eyes off Stiles for the whole goddamn night _._

Because of course he’d heard every sound in the elevator _._ He’d headed out to help Scott with the pizzas - Scott, who had seen the damn signs to take the stairs instead of the elevator, had been standing in the hall with his mouth open, listening to the hedonistic racket going on inside. It had been too transfixing for both of them to be awkward. Until afterwards, of course. 

Midnight found both him and Scott lurking in the kitchen, the sounds of increasingly rowdy merriment coming from the living room. Derek was moodily nursing a beer and trying to get drunk enough to not care that Stiles’s mouth was around a beer bottle and not his cock, and Scott appeared to be of the same mind. 

‘Are you mad at Isaac?’

Scott frowned. He was rolling a cigarette between his fingers as though he didn’t know what to do with it. Derek held out his hand impatiently. 

‘You don’t like these,’ he muttered, sticking it between his lips and lighting it with Stiles’s _stupid_ pawprint zippo lighter that just couldn’t lose itself at any party, no matter how hard Derek tried to encourage its disappearance. 

‘Isaac does.’ Scott shrugged. ‘I’m not mad at him. Why would I be?’

Derek frowned. He inhaled, thinking. 

‘But you’re with one of them, right?’

‘One of … you mean Stiles and Isaac? Derek.’ Scott shook his head slightly, as if baffled by the entire concept. He may have also been slightly drunk on aconite pops.

‘I’m not _with_ anyone,’ he said, hopping up on a barstool, only just making it. ‘But I would _like_ to be with Isaac. I really … really wanna be with Isaac.’ Scott rubbed his nose tiredly. He hadn’t wanted to come tonight. Maybe he really was just tired, or whatever excuse he’d given on the phone that had been shouted down by the girls yelling about Scott being chicken shit.

‘So … what’s the deal with you and Stiles then?’ Derek asked, trying to act as though he really couldn’t care less, but this was what wolf brothers were supposed to do, right? Ask about each other’s sex lives in a really non-committal fashion?

Scott laughed, holding out a hand for the cigarette, which Derek dutifully handed over. 

‘Stiles and I have been fooling around since, like, freshman year,’ Scott said. Smoking suited him, even if he couldn’t inhale for shit. ‘It’s whatever. Except I can’t say I love him like a brother now, cos that’d be … weird.’

Derek huffed a laugh, surprised. He supposed it made sense that Scott and Stiles would be joined less at the hip and more at the testicle. Stiles, certainly, was that kind of guy.

Scott was in exposition mode now, gesturing with the cigarette. ‘Stiles is just _fun_. He makes things interesting. And he’s _warm_. Really warm. Like, I mean warm to hug but also warm inside, you know? You should give him a chance. It’d be so good for you.’

‘Are you saying I’m cold?’

Scott looked at him levelly. ‘God no, you’re a bundle of hugs and sunshine.’

Derek glared, and Scott’s face split into a grin.

‘Shut up.’

‘I’m serious, though.’

‘I’m not interesting enough.’ That one slipped out. Derek bit his lip.

‘I mean, for Stiles,’ he added. ‘He’s into all that weird shit.’ Weird shit that he would probably be up for at least trying if Stiles was the one asking. 

‘He’s not _really_.’ Scott was still grinning, too hard to smoke properly. Every time he tried, his lips would quirk up again, and he’d shake his head. 

‘Give me that,’ said Derek irritably, thrusting out his hand. Once he’d inhaled a few more times to calm down, he said, ‘You cannot tell me that Stiles isn’t into weird stuff.’

‘Stiles is _weird_ , but he’s not into, I dunno, ropes and shit, or whatever,’ Scott replied eloquently. ‘It’s not that at all. Stiles just …’ He chewed the inside of his cheek briefly, seeming pensive. Derek watched him carefully. 

‘I don’t think Stiles ever really got over high school,’ Scott said slowly. ‘You know? All the shit we went through. I mean, for me, I am so glad we got out of there alive. Knowing that we destroyed the nemeton’s power for good, that’s everything for me, man. I am more than happy to go my entire life never seeing or hearing about another supernatural creature again. Shit, I don’t even like watching _Ghostbusters_ anymore.’ Scott paused, and a shadow flickered over his face, one that reminded Derek of the man Scott used to be. The one he had to become, far too early. 

‘But Stiles …’ Scott shook his head. ‘See, you never knew him before, but he went from Peter Parker to Spiderman, dude. I don’t wanna say it was good for him, but …’ He trailed off, looking unsure.

‘But what?’ Derek prompted, eager and anxious all at the same time.

Scott looked at him. ‘After he was possessed. Well, we were all kind of just waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know? Stiles had these moments where he looked _haunted_. Ninety per cent of the time, he was great. And Malia really helped, she gave him something to focus on that didn’t remind him of someone he’d stabbed, or kidnapped, or knocked unconscious. But there were times when I’d look at him and think this is it, this is the day he’s gonna tell me that he’s done, that he’s gone so far and now he’s at the edge. Every night, I waited for that call.’

Scott paused. The cigarette hung between Derek’s fingers, ash drifting to the floor.

‘And then he just … got better.’ Scott shrugged, like it still amazed him. There was a tiny smile on his face when he spoke next. ‘My mom used to say that Stiles is like a diamond. You put him under a whole load of pressure, and somehow he comes out all shiny and worth, like, billions. Sometimes I miss lump-of-coal-Stiles, though.’

‘ _What_?’

‘The reason Stiles likes having sex where he might get caught is cos it’s just like how his life was then. Looking over his shoulder, might get caught at any minute. Adrenalin. He thrived on it. It’s just how he is now. He needs excitement. He works in an IKEA, for god’s sake.’

Derek thought about that. Stiles needed excitement? Well that was that then, wasn’t it? Derek wasn’t exciting. All he wanted was someone to get excited about. 

Another peal of laughter made them both look up and glance towards the living room. Derek recognised Stiles’s voice among the chatter, comparing elemental reactions to sex positions with Lydia, and god, Derek wanted him so badly. He wanted to be the centre of Stiles’s attention. Stiles wanted him for a night. Derek wanted … considerably more than that.

‘Dude, you dropped your cigarette.’

Derek stood up straight. ‘Let’s go back inside,’ he insisted. 

Scott hopped off the barstool. ‘You ok?’

‘I’m fine. Stiles is just …’

‘Stiles is diamonds,’ Scott said, but his eyes were soft, like he knew. 

Derek hesitated, then gave up. 

‘Yeah. Stiles is diamonds.’

 

* * *

 

 

As Stiles predicted, his little stunt in the elevator finally got Scott and Isaac to give up their little preschool I-don’t-really-like-you-anyways charade and start banging on the regular. They were both proudly sporting hickies, the walls shook at night, and Scott was walking around with a big smile on his face. Stiles was thrilled. And smug. 

‘You could not look more pleased with yourself,’ Lydia commented acidly, as they all pointedly looked the other way when Scott and Isaac were making out on a street corner at 3am. They were waiting for a taxi, and Lydia was missing Allison, who was home sick and had ordered Lydia from the apartment.

‘I am extremely pleased,’ retorted Stiles, stuffing his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders against the cold. ‘Cupid should be paying me. I’m doing his job for him.’

‘I don’t remember Cupid ever getting anything out of it,’ Kira remarked, snug in her little red coat, hood pulled up so they could only see her nose and lips. 

‘Don’t question my methods, Kira.’

‘Why do I come out with you,’ Derek grumbled from behind them.

‘Well if all you’re gonna do is grind your teeth at Stiles, maybe you shouldn’t,’ quipped Malia, coming up behind Stiles to wrap her arms around his shivering form. She was completely warm in just her little gold dress. Coyote warm. Stiles snuggled into her, winking at Derek. 

‘Wanna get in on this sandwich, Derek?’

‘There’s a cab,’ said Derek hurriedly. Stiles slumped against Malia, who squeezed him sympathetically.

‘He’s dumb,’ she muttered, as they watched Derek hail the cab somewhat frantically.

‘I know,’ muttered Stiles, sullenly. 

‘Really dumb.’

‘I _know_.’

‘Like, I know I was a coyote for half my life but do you want me to give him some tips?’ Malia turned him around, frowning at him. 

‘It’s fine,’ Stiles shrugged. ‘It’s a weird little crush thingy. I am totally A-ok with being sexually ignored by Derek Hale for the rest of my life.’

‘He probably heard that.’

‘I - well, he was meant to.’

Malia rolled her eyes, but Kira was at her shoulder trying to get her attention, and lately all Malia seemed to want was Kira’s attention. Stiles nudged her away with his hips, smiling as the girls’ hands found each other’s, a little shyly. Malia knew what to do with boys - she’d kind of lived the Animal Planet explanation of reproduction - but bisexuality, and all the other wonderful areas of sexuality, was something that Stiles had actively had to sit down with her and explain. Her eyes had gone wide as saucers, and she’d immediately wanted to try it out on the nearest girl. What a little go-getter, he thought fondly, watching her nuzzle Kira’s neck as Lydia sorted out the girl’s taxi.

Stiles made for the back of their cab with Scott and Isaac, but Derek grabbed him by the collar and shunted him towards the front. ‘Don’t even try it,’ he snapped. Stiles glared at his back before getting into the passenger seat. He loved a challenge, but this was getting disheartening. 

That night, listening to Scott and Isaac going at it like very drunk, very disorientated, and very sleepy rabbits, Stiles wondered if Derek might actually be completely turned off by his habits. Maybe Derek was the opposite of polygamous. Maybe the idea of having sex anywhere other than between the covers made him break out in a sweat, and not the good kind. 

Stiles turned over and pummeled his pillow, irritated. Well, that was just his tough luck. Stiles had plenty of people who’d willingly ride the hobby horse with him, any day of the week.

A particularly loud moan from Isaac filled his ears. He thought about Lydia, anxious to get home to Allison. Kira and Malia holding hands on the sidewalk, all warm and glowing in the secret language of two people who know they’re on the road to something very special, something that doesn’t quite have a name yet, or words to describe it. Stiles’s limbs stilled, as he wondered what that was like.

 

* * *

 

 

Scott and Isaac dragged Stiles to the gym at 9am for early morning swims. Literally dragged; they arrived into his room, completely revolting in all their werewolf love and healing abilities. 

‘No, please,’ Stiles begged weakly, as they jumped on him. ‘Sympathy for the human. You guys _suck_.’

‘We’re trying to thank you,’ Scott said in his ear.

‘You’re actually just crushing me.’

‘Trust me, Stiles, you will absolutely appreciate this,’ said Isaac, standing beside the bed with his arms folded, usual cocky smile in place. 

‘But I’ll _drown_ ,’ Stiles protested from underneath Scott. ‘I have trouble just showering on a hangover, you know that.’

‘We’re not swimming.’

‘But you said we were going to the pool?’ Stiles aimed a squinty glare at Isaac, from where he was still flat on his stomach, Scott nuzzling his neck. ‘For swims.’

‘We’re going to the sauna,’ Isaac corrected him. But Stiles was distracted. There was a whole lot of Scott all over him, after all.

‘I kinda like what we have going on here though,’ he commented, wriggling around so he was face to face with Scott and wrapping his arms around his neck. Scott beamed, legs and arms getting more settled. Stiles stretched up for a kiss and Scott met his lips easily, like always. Stiles’s heart kicked off in relief that even though his best friend officially had a bf, he still had room for sleepy morning kisses with Stiles. 

‘Yeah, normally I’d be all over this, but we have things to do, Scott.’ Isaac sounded amused, but Stiles wasn’t bothered opening his eyes to check. He deepened the kiss with Scott, grinding his hips up and feeling all the fun hardness that was developing on the other side of the blankets.

‘Please don’t get him hard,’ Isaac pleaded.

‘Too late,’ Stiles muttered, barely breaking apart long enough to get the words out. Scott’s tongue was hot in his mouth, slipping past his lips as he pressed their bodies together. 

‘I meant don’t get him hard _yet_.’

Stiles paused, just. His brain was in an extremely compromised state, what with the hangover and the boners, but something in Isaac’s tone was registering.

‘Explain,’ he ordered, as Scott moved down to his neck, covering last night’s hickey with the beginnings of a new one. 

‘I’ll explain when we get there,’ Isaac insisted. ‘Scott, get off him now or I won’t do that thing I said I’d do last night.’

Stiles had to hand it to Isaac; he learned fast. Scott got up so quickly that Stiles’s lips were still puckered. 

Stiles blamed his hangover for not noticing the obvious when they arrived at the gym. 

‘Derek’s working today,’ he realised, clutching the strap of his bag a little tighter. Isaac rolled his eyes.

‘Yeah, he only complained about it like a hundred times last night,’ he said, tugging on Stiles to make him move again.

‘He’s a lifeguard though,’ Stiles protested, as they pushed him towards the door. ‘Can’t we go to the pool? I’m wearing trunks but I _definitely_ have some speedos in my gym bag somewhere, or I can just buy some, there’s a machine right there - ’

‘You won’t need them,’ assured Scott, squeezing his shoulder.

‘Ok I’m confused but excited. Let’s do this.’ Stiles was wondering if maybe Derek had decided to make a move after all. His heart was beating stupidly fast as they approached the sauna, and he was suddenly wishing he’d gone commando under his towel. 

He couldn’t see Derek anywhere near the pool as they passed. He allowed Scott and Isaac to shove him into the sauna first, wondering who was inside - they were going to stand guard, clearly - so he was confused when he couldn’t make out anyone through the steam. The door clicked shut behind them, and he heard the occupied timer turn for significantly longer than the usual 15 minutes allowed per group.

‘Ok, I don’t understand,’ he said blankly, still squinting through the clouds of steam. ‘This is lovely and all, and I’m sure it’ll help purge the copious amounts of alcohol from my system, so I mean, thanks for that, but I was expecting something a little - ’

He turned, and his mouth dropped all the way open. Scott and Isaac were standing side by side, backs to the door, minus two towels and plus two growing erections. Scott looked embarrassed but excited, and Isaac just looked hungry. 

Stiles was inhaling a lot of stream. He swallowed with difficulty, throat clicking. ‘That’s uh.’ He cleared his throat. ‘That’s a lot …. More.’

‘We wanted to thank you. In, uh, the best way we knew how.’ Scott was smiling now, watching Stiles as his eyes raked over the two of them. 

‘Free show?’ he asked, hopefully. Isaac rolled his eyes again, but he didn’t look amused now.

‘Derek is on lifeguard duty,’ Scott explained, hand straying to his cock almost absentmindedly. Stiles watched it move, transfixed. ‘And every forty-five minutes, he has to check the sauna for any non-steam related activities, if you know what I mean.’ Bless Scott. Only he could feel it necessary to add “if you know what I mean” in a situation where two out of three people are naked and hard. Stiles was currently sporting a semi and too many layers. 

‘And I owe you a dance, Stilinski,’ Isaac murmured, his eyes hot upon Stiles. 

Stiles felt his stomach lurch. His poor brain was suddenly working overtime. It was very likely he was gonna have to be carried out of here. 

Sex, sauna, possibility of Derek walking in at _just_ the right moment … 

‘You guys really do know me!’ he beamed. Then his gaze darkened. Down to business. Scott hadn’t said how long since Derek had last checked, and Stiles didn’t know how many orgasms there would be time for, but this was ticking like six hundred boxes on his kink list and it was time to _go_.

‘Kind of interested in seeing my handiwork, actually,’ he commented, as he dropped his towel and started to pull down his shorts. ‘Audio, with visual this time.’ 

Obediently, Scott and Isaac turned to each other. Stiles had to admit, they looked really good together. Scott tilted his head up as Isaac skimmed his hands over Scott’s brown, muscled body. They kissed soft and slow, leaning in to each other, Scott’s hand cupping Isaac’s face.

‘Aw, how cute. I think a bunny was just born in a daffodil field.’

They broke the kiss to glare at him. Well, Isaac glared. Scott just looked dazed.

‘Come on,’ Stiles taunted. ‘Show me what you’ve got.’

They prowled over to him. Stiles’s stomach with tight with anticipation. The second their hands touched him the room suddenly got 500 degrees hotter. He gasped as their mouths found his skin, kissing and biting and sucking as he scrambled to find purchase against their bodies. Scott was pressed against his front, Isaac his back, and there was no space for Stiles to think or breathe or do anything other than grab on to them as he was overwhelmed. 

‘Yeah, I mean,’ he panted, ‘this is pretty good, I guess.’ He was rock hard and trembling. The heat and steam had their bodies slick and wet, and their lips scorched on his skin.

‘Shut up,’ said Scott fondly, straightening up to kiss him. Stiles could spend forever kissing Scott, really he could. His arms automatically went around his neck as he allowed Scott to take hold of him, moving their mouths together. Isaac’s cock was pressed against his ass, rubbing in very interesting ways as his hands circled around to help Stiles out. 

Pressed between the two of them, feeling their demanding hands grabbing and pulling on him, Stiles wondered why the _fuck_ they hadn’t been doing this for years. Isaac’s mouth nibbled on his shoulder and neck like he’d been _trained_. Stiles moaned into Scott’s mouth as he held him against Isaac’s ministrations. Clearly someone had been tattling about how much Stiles liked to be marked. 

‘You like that, Stiles?’ Isaac murmured. ‘I learned well.’

‘You did,’ gasped Stiles, struggling to remain standing. Scott kissed him again, tugging on his lip. His eyes were bright, flickering open to meet Stiles’s every few moments. There were hands on his cock now, but moving infuriatingly slow.

‘That’s hot,’ commented Isaac, watching Stiles and Scott make out. 

‘Oh yeah,’ murmured Stiles, breaking away to allow Scott to bite at his neck. ‘You like seeing me and your boy together?’

‘I like seeing what he can do to you,’ replied Isaac, fingers digging into his hips on one side, as his other hand stroked Stiles’s cock. 

Stiles tried very hard not to thrust up into the gorgeous fist Isaac was making. ‘And here I thought you wanted to be exclusive, Isaac.’

‘Oh, I do. Only one of you is gonna be getting breakfast in bed.’

‘I’m getting breakfast?’ Scott’s mouth suddenly ceased it’s mind-blowing hickey maintenance, and Stiles whined. 

‘Can we focus here?’ he protested. ‘Put my dick in your mouth.’

He hadn’t expected them to let him demand things, but Scott’s eyes lit up. He immediately dropped to his knees and went to town, and only Isaac’s arms around Stiles kept him upright as Scott’s sweet lips slipped over the head of his dick. 

Isaac pulled Stiles’s head back by the hair so he could get at his neck, forceful and demanding, whispering against his skin how he was going to fuck his ass raw, until he couldn’t walk, until he couldn’t stand. Stiles trembled against them, body jolting every time he heard a noise from outside. The smell of the hot wood and their clean sweat was intoxicating combined with the sensation of being touched everywhere twice, water droplets trickling down his back and arms and neck. 

Scott’s mouth was sinful, and all the more enjoyable because Stiles knew who it belonged to. But Isaac was getting impatient. 

‘My turn,’ he growled in Stiles’s ear. Scott was suddenly standing, a bashful smile on his face as he leant in for another kiss, like he was almost amazed at what he’d reduced Stiles to with just his lips and tongue. Stiles, incidentally, was a quivering mess, putty in their hands and too physically and mentally weakened to do anything about it. 

‘This is almost cruel,’ he muttered against Scott’s hot mouth, tasting himself. ‘I feel like you planned this so I couldn’t put up a fight.’

‘We arranged this days ago,’ contradicted Isaac, hands tugging him by the hips back towards the benches. ‘No one forced you to drink all that jäger last night.’

Stiles suddenly found himself sitting on Scott’s lap, a hard cock pressed against his back. He settled into his friend’s embrace, allowing him to kiss his neck as he gazed up at Isaac, who was looking at him hungrily. 

‘My turn,’ he repeated. Stiles took that as his cue to go to work. Isaac’s dick was flushed red, and looked almost painful. Stiles thought he kind of deserved to let Isaac suffer a little longer without his supreme oral skills. A noise echoed from outside, and suddenly Stiles had a strong mental image of what he’d look like were Derek to open the door right this second, Stiles clasped to Scott’s chest, dicks everywhere. 

Isaac made a rough noise in his throat as Stiles leant forward to take him into his mouth, butting his abdomen with his head as he did so. Immediately, Isaac’s hands went to his hair, holding on tightly but letting Stiles do all the work, which he was quite happy to do. Scott’s hands were moving again, slipping around to grasp Stiles’s dick, stimulating him without really jerking him off. Torture, basically. Stiles made stressed noises around his mouthful of cock at every half-hearted touch Scott subjected him to, and they laughed softly.

‘You like that, don’t you,’ Scott murmured in his ear, lips grazing his skin and sending goosebumps rioting off over his shoulders and arms, despite the heat. ‘You love being touched. We’re gonna touch every part of you.’ His voice deepened, his grip on Stiles’s cock growing firm. ‘I’m gonna fuck you so hard. If - if you want me to. God, I wanna fuck you, Stiles.’ 

Scott was trailing off into incoherent mumbles, mainly because Stiles was doing his best to rub him off using just his butt. It wasn’t something he’d tried before, but Stiles believed in firsts. 

‘Turn him around,’ said Isaac hoarsely, and Scott started to shift him sideways on the bench, before inexplicably moving away towards the door for a moment. Isaac pulled back, and Stiles swiped at his mouth before he was being manhandled until he was on his hands and knees on the wide, wooden bench. It was slippery with their sweat, and Stiles gripped the edge, thankful he had the back of the bench to lean against because this was probably going to get so wonderfully rough. 

Isaac stretched out and tugged Stiles’s head back down to his cock, which Stiles eagerly accepted. His first attempt turned into a gasp as he felt Scott’s hands spreading his cheeks gently. Stiles had a moment of brief hesitation before he heard a familiar snap.

‘ _Where_ were you hiding that?’ he demanded, tensing slightly as he felt a cold, slicked finger probing his hole.

‘It’s best you don’t know,’ Scott assured him. ‘It’s travel-sized.’

‘Oh really? That’s so convenient,’ Stiles commented. 

‘Less talk, more sucking,’ Isaac insisted. Stiles would have obliged with a suitable witty reply, but suddenly there was a finger and a very delicate, but firm, tongue, getting all up in his business and words became a thing of the past as Stiles gripped the bench like a life-raft. Isaac took advantage of his sudden slack-jaw and pushed more of himself into Stiles’s gaping mouth as Scott slid a finger slowly in and out, probing with his tongue when it became too much and making Stiles shudder and curse in several interesting dick-in-mouth dialects. 

Stiles didn’t think Scott had been born with his rimming talent, and it made him suck Isaac off even more enthusiastically because _shit_ that boy knew his way around a butthole now. Scott’s tongue was hot and probing, making Stiles’s knees tremble, but he held it together because he knew there was better still to come. 

Scott tentatively added one finger, then another when Stiles cursed him out for going too slow. He nearly poked himself in the eye with Isaac’s dick but it was worth it, because Scott started scissoring his fingers inside Stiles and holy goddamn, Stiles nearly buckled right there. 

‘I think he’s nearly ready,’ murmured Isaac.

‘I second that,’ gasped Stiles, panting and trying to buck back against Scott’s hand, desperate for more friction, more movement. Scott seemed to be reaching the end of his own rope, because almost immediately Stiles get the head of Scott’s dick pressing against his hole.

The burn was all-consuming and exquisite, almost too much. Knowing that it was Scott’s dick pushing inside him made it even hotter, and Stiles panted heavily as Scott shoved inside, trembled as Scott laid hands on him, kneading his ass gently. 

Scott went slow at first, but Isaac didn’t particularly care to. Watching Scott fuck Stiles was clearly all of Isaac’s dreams come true, and he started fucking into Stiles’s mouth, looking transfixed. Stiles simply adjusted and let Isaac give it to him.

Scott began picking up speed to match Isaac. Both of them were groaning slightly as they fucked him, and Stiles was having a very hard time remaining on his hands and knees. His whole body shook, and he nearly fell off the bench when Scott reached around to touch him. He was so hard and under-stimulated that one touch nearly sent him over the edge, but Scott held him firm, timing his strokes with his thrusts. Isaac’s hands slid over his face and shoulders, caressing and stroking him. The sensation of being filled from both ends made a crazy, hot haze that clouded his thoughts and burned throughout his body

Stiles came with a strangled shout, almost dropping. He probably would have if Isaac hadn’t grabbed him, holding him up while Scott stroked him through it. Stiles shook and gasped, the sensation overwhelming; his skin felt overstimulated and goddamn worshipped. Isaac kissed his neck and ran his fingers over his skin, scraping slightly and providing the perfect counterpoint of pleasure/pain to his orgasm.

Scott was still inside of him. He pulled Stiles back against him so he was sitting on Scott’s dick, and gently turned them both sideways, so Scott’s back was pressed to the back of the bench. Isaac stood up, and shuffled around so he was right in front of Stiles.

‘Your mouth looks fucking amazing like that,’ he said, sounding utterly wrecked. Stiles was amazed that he hadn’t come yet, but he didn’t look too far off. 

Scott was wrapped around him, thrusting slowly into him and kissing his neck, his shoulder, anything he could reach. Having Scott’s strong arms around him was fucking bliss; the sensation of being fucked by him was still such a trip that Stiles would have given boner 2.0 an approximate ETA of maybe ten minutes. Less if Isaac started to make things happen.

‘I hope you can hold out, Stiles,’ Isaac murmured, stroking himself. ‘I haven’t had my turn yet.’

‘Oh god,’ groaned Stiles. ‘Fuck.’

But Isaac was already laying hands on him, tugging him away from Scott until he was lying on his back. Scott was almost incoherent, meeting Isaac above Stiles’s wrecked body for a hot, messy kiss, tangling his fingers in Isaac’s curls desperately. 

‘You want me to fuck your boy,’ Isaac whispered against Scott’s mouth. ‘You wanna see me fuck him?’

Scott whined and shuffled closer. But Isaac was positioning himself at Stiles’s entrance, slicking himself up and staring at Stiles like he was literally a five course meal. Stiles swallowed hard, feeling his dick twitch in anticipation. 

‘You ok, Scotty?’ he croaked, craning his neck around. ‘Want me to sort that out?’

‘Oh god, please,’ Scott breathed, all but shoving his dick in Stiles’s face.

‘My pleasure,’ Stiles mumbled, trying to find an angle that didn’t break his neck. Unfortunately, Isaac chose that moment to shove inside of him. Stiles’s mouth opened in a shocked, soundless cry as Isaac pulled out and immediately slammed back in again. This, Stiles realised, was revenge. It might have had something to do with Scott feeding Stiles his dick, inches away from where Isaac was fucking him, but it was also absolutely revenge for the elevator. 

Breathing hard, Isaac lifted first one of Stiles’s legs and then the other until they were resting on his shoulders. His dick wasn’t as thick as Scott’s, but it was longer, and he was definitely more ruthless with it. Scott almost apologised to Stiles when he got over eager with him. Isaac straight up didn’t give a fuck, and would give Stiles whatever he could take. 

‘Fuck, oh fuck,’ Stiles whimpered, attempting to jerk Scott off while getting pounded into the bench. Scott was hovering over him, trying to gently suggest that Stiles suck his balls without actually having to say it. Stiles would have rolled his eyes if he’d been able to spare the brainpower. Instead he licked upwards, tickling Scott, who whined in response. 

‘Get his legs,’ Isaac panted, and Scott reached forward and pulled gently on Stiles’s legs, raising them off Isaac’s shoulders. He pulled them back towards himself until Stiles yelped, and Isaac spread his cheeks with his hands, slipping one finger in with his dick and crooking it inside him. Stiles luckily had a mouthful of testicle, or he would have howled. 

Isaac and Scott met above him in a passionate kiss, breathing into each other’s mouths. Stiles grabbed Scott’s thighs and dug in for support as he sucked and licked his balls, feeling like his dick was going to start needing attention some time soon.

‘Fuck his ass,’ Scott gasped. ‘Yeah, oh god. Fuck him.’

Isaac was close, Stiles could feel it, even if he couldn’t see him. His hands were spreading over Stiles’s chest, slipping over his slick skin to caress his neck. Stiles swallowed under Isaac’s hand, feeling his fingers tighten slightly, and Stiles had a feeling that Isaac had been listening that one time when they’d all been discussing how they felt about asphyxiation kinks. A sauna, however, was probably not the place for it, so Stiles was relieved when Isaac’s grip slipped; his thrusts became rapid, and uneven, hips pistoning into him a few more times before he came with a shout. Scott released Stiles’s legs, and they flopped down on to Isaac’s back as Scott drew back and held his dick over Stiles’s face. A few quick strokes and he was coming too, spurts of jizz landing on Stiles’s face and neck, one painting his lips in a way that was so crazy hot that Stiles attempted a weakened thrust upwards with his hips. No joy; Isaac was out of it. 

‘You fuckers,’ Stiles panted, as Scott slumped back on the bench. ‘You got me hard again and I’m too fucking tired to do anything about it.’

‘Sorry,’ replied Scott, sounding wiped. ‘Isaac will blow you in the car, how’s that?’

‘I will?’

‘Yeah, you will.’

‘Alright, I guess.’

Stiles was feeling mildly indignant that he’d ended up something of a prop between the two of them, but damn that was good sex, so he couldn’t complain too much (at least, not while he still had come on his face). 

‘Somebody either suck me off or pass me a towel,’ Stiles demanded. Isaac was still slumped on top of him, lazily kissing his neck. Scott’s fingers were twined in Stiles’s hair, and while this was lovely and all, Stiles was up one boner and down one Derek; not at all how this was supposed to end. 

‘How about neither, and you all get the _fuck_ out of here?’

Somewhere, somehow, God still liked Stiles Stilinski. 

‘Aw Derek, couldn’t you have waited like five more minutes?’ Stiles complained happily, as Isaac slipped right off him and on to the ground, exposing Stiles’s glorious boner. ‘Isaac was just about to suck me off.’

He could almost hear Derek’s teeth grinding together. Scott and Isaac were grabbing towels and lube, too fucked-out to be embarrassed. Derek allowed them to slide past him, though his glare could knock a statue down. He bent down to pick up Stiles’s discarded towel and shorts, an expression of extreme distaste on his face. That faded, however, when he looked at Stiles.

Stiles was absolutely still hard. Seeing Derek had only made that particular situation worse. He smirked lazily at him, sitting up at his leisure, and Derek’s face went completely slack as Stiles contemplated jerking off in front of him. Then he realised he was very much still wearing the most elegant of pearl necklaces, and figured his job here was done.

‘I guess I’d better be going,’ he said slowly, sliding off the bench, which was infinitely more slippery now. He held out his hand for the towel and his shorts, but Derek drew back.

Stiles raised his eyebrows. ‘Come on, Derek. Unless you want me to give everyone here the same free show that you seem to be getting on the regular, Derek.’

Derek raised his eyebrow, staring and blushing but definitely staring. 

‘Are you doing this on purpose?’ he asked, tossing him the towel rather roughly.

Stiles snorted, wrapping the towel around himself, shorts balled up in his hand. ‘Absolutely.’

Derek looked surprised. 

‘Well, do I get to know why? Is it a joke to you, trying to embarrass me in public? Or am I being punk’d or something - is this a college experiment? Is this hazing?’ Derek squinted at him suspiciously.

Stiles shook his head, amazed. ‘Firstly, you have to actually be _in_ college to be hazed, Derek. And secondly, I’m a history student. What the hell kind of experiments do you think I’m doing?’

Derek sighed. ‘Well, what then?’

Stiles gestured incredulously. ‘Look, public scenarios just get me hot, ok? This isn’t news. It’s just me.’

Derek looked nettled. ‘But why is it always _my_ public spaces?’

Stiles threw his hands up. ‘Dude, if you haven’t gotten it by now, man, you deserve to be cleaning my loads off the wall.’

He went to saunter out past him, but Derek caught his arm rather unexpectedly. 

There was a long moment where they stared at each other, Stiles’s boner get more and more excited with each passing second. Derek was moving very close to him, _very_ slowly. Was his hand straying towards Stiles’s crotch? Was it? _It was_. Stiles held his breath, heart pounding, dick leaking. 

Derek grabbed the towel and whipped it away. The material chafed his tender cock, making him yelp, and automatically cover himself. 

‘I’ll need this,’ Derek explained, holding up the towel. ‘To clean up your mess.’ He glanced down again. ‘Good to know you’ve got stamina, though. Who would have thought. See you later, Stiles.’

It was unfortunate that Stiles had already struggled to put his shorts back on as he half-stumbled down the corridor, completely forgetting that there was quite a lot of jizz on his face. Jizz, as it turns out, doesn’t dry in the humidity of a public pool. Who knew?

 

[Texts from _Stiles_ to **Derek]**

 

_I think you’re gonna be getting a forced-indecent exposure charge._

 

**Seeing ur perky lil ass bouncin down th hall makes it worth it**

 

_Is this Derek??_

 

[…]

 

**NO. That was Malia.**

 

_Damn. Knew it was too good to be true._

 

**I’d better not see you at work today.**

 

_Tell me there’s not a part of you that wants to see my “perky lil ass” again_

 

**Not in my gym**

 

_Alright, where then?_

 

**You’re the expert on locations. You tell me.**

 

_You could have me wherever you wanted_

 

_You still throwing that party on Saturday?_

 

**Do you think Lydia is giving me a choice?**

 

_Guess I’ll see you there then. Unless that’s too close for you to handle._

 

**You’re not that great**

 

_You’re sexy when you’re bluffing, Derek._

 


	5. Chapter 5

The music was booming hard enough to hurt Derek's ears, and that was how he liked it. When there were enough people trying to get off in his apartment, or throwing up in the toilet (and sometimes off the balcony, and wasn't that fun to explain to the neighbours) it was better to be able to drown out his sensitive werewolf hearing. 

It didn’t always work though. For instance, if the bass wasn't loud enough, he could hear the sounds of drunken foreplay going on in his bedroom. Very loud, very enthusiastic foreplay. He thought about leaving them to it, but then he saw Stiles following Lydia and Allison in there. They each had one of his hands wrapped in theirs, and Lydia had a bottle of tequila in her other hand. He was fairly sure Allison had weed. He could smell it from here. 

So yeah, Derek could ignore that. He could ignore the fact that Stiles was mostly likely going to be naked and orgasming in his apartment (not for the first time) and that it once again wasn’t going to be with Derek. He should stay in the kitchen. There were a lot of hot people here. He didn’t know half of them, but Lydia did, or said she did anyways. He could go with any one of them into a dark corner and do stuff he’d regret, but he didn’t want to do it with just anyone. He couldn’t look away from his bedroom door. There was a Beacon Hills baseball cap hanging off the door handle. Stiles had sexiled him from his own _room_. 

Though to be fair, it wasn’t just Stiles.

When Derek opened the door (because of course he opened the door, he was a weak, pathetic man who could stay away from this doe-eyed motherfucker) he had to blink to adjust to the dim lighting. And the _smell_. 

The lights were low, with only his bedside lamp providing any illumination, and his laptop in the corner, playing music quietly, even though it could hardly be heard over the bass blasting from the living room. The en suite bathroom door was slightly ajar, light spilling out from in there too. Derek could hear the water running. 

On the master bed - _his_ bed - Isaac and Scott were so wrapped around each other Derek couldn’t tell whose limbs were whose. They were rutting heavily and making out, though Derek had a feeling they were both too drunk to do anything constructive about it. Good. Derek had heard enough horror stories about them breaking their own goddamn bed. 

There were other noises coming from the bathroom, little squeaks and moans. Derek moved towards the door and poked his head around it. His eyes widened as he saw Malia and Kira in the shower, semi-naked and soaked. Malia had Kira pinned against the wall, and by the angle of her arm and the expression on Kira’s face, she was putting the shower hose to very creative use. 

_Great_ , thought Derek, shuffling back out into the bedroom. Just one more thing he had to disinfect. 

He’d been avoiding looking at the writing desk as soon as he came in, but it was the only place left now. Reluctantly, he stared over at the utter debauchery occurring on his beautiful mahogany desk. All his papers and things were on the ground. What a mess.

Stiles had Allison on her back, clothes making their way to the floor, legs tangled together as he undressed her, kissing her breasts and neck as she writhed underneath him. Lydia was standing in her underwear, taking pictures and swigging from the bottle of tequila. Derek was mesmerised by Stiles; the way his body moved, strong and supple, caressing Allison’s limbs, fingers tightening then releasing as he stimulated her body. His lips, so fucking beautiful, as they sucked at her neck, her shoulder, trailing up to her lips where they made out like it was nothing, like it was literally this simple to have sex with your friends. Derek didn’t get it. He didn’t understand the constant drive to be boning all your closest acquaintances. But right now, he sure was appreciating it. 

Lydia padded over to him, looking gorgeous as usual, pupils blown and a quick smile on her lips. She handed him the tequila and reached around him to lock the door. 

‘He’s warming her up,’ Lydia explained, sitting down on the floor to roll a joint. She smiled happily as Allison moaned. Derek looked up, and saw that Stiles’s hand had slipped between their bodies, fingers disappearing between Allison’s legs. He swallowed. 

For lack of something better to do, he sat down beside Lydia. Their backs were against the wardrobe, and they had a perfect view of the writing desk. Allison was arching her back, her nipples perky and hard, as Stiles began fingering her in earnest. He slipped back a bit, so he could better duck down and do what Derek could only assume were perfectly unholy things with his tongue. For a moment, he would have given anything to be Allison. 

Derek felt a tug on his collar. He turned, and shot-gunned with Lydia, whose body felt hot and inviting against his. Weed didn’t have as potent an effect on werewolves as it did on humans, but the right amount could definitely achieve results. Derek had already had quite a bit, and his limbs were feeling heavy. His dick was feeling heavy too. Oh no.

Lydia climbed into his lap and kissed him gently, biting his lower lip. One elegant arm was extended, holding the joint, and the other was wrapped around his neck. Derek touched her waist, then gripped it more firmly when she didn’t protest. He deepened the kiss, liking the taste of her. They’d made out before, but it almost always preceded a serious talk between the two of them (or on one memorable occasion, followed it). 

Lydia’s breasts were firm against his chest, and his hand slipped up to caress one of them. She made a little noise of appreciation, and tilted her hips slightly so she was grinding off his boner. Derek knew this wasn’t exactly why Lydia was here, but at this point he was very happy to take what he was given. 

He was thinking about shifting his hands down to her ass when Lydia broke the kiss, with a satisfied little murmur, and shifted around so she was seated more comfortably in his lap. Her ass was in a highly inconvenient location for Derek, but he knew better than to complain about it, so he just let his hands settle on her skin, stroking gently, and accepted the joint when she passed it to him. 

Kira was now audible to non-werewolf ears, her cries coming through the gap in the door even over the sound of the water. Scott and Isaac, by comparison, had gone silent; or Isaac had anyways, but that was probably because he was bent over Scott’s dick. 

‘You want him,’ Lydia said softly, taking the joint back and inhaling deeply. Derek felt her stomach move under his hand where he was stroking it.

He nodded, watching Stiles again. He was naked now, and there was a mole on his butt. Derek had only glimpsed that mole before, and now he wanted to lick it. 

‘More than that?’ Lydia asked. Her hair was tickling his chin.

Derek nodded again.

Lydia stretched slightly, rubbing her butt into him again, and Derek closed his eyes briefly.

‘You’ve got to _show_ him then,’ she explained, languorously arching into him, torturing Derek just a little. ‘He really thinks you’re only interested in watching, so he’s trying to bait you into breaking down. And please, don’t tell me you’re not interested. You practically go into heat whenever he walks into a room.’

Derek couldn’t argue with that, mainly because speech was quite difficult now. Lydia took his free hand and held it to her breast, letting him squeeze slightly, slipping one finger under the fabric to caress her nipple. 

‘Come play with us,’ she murmured, and even Derek could recognise that this was a perfect opportunity to fuck Stiles. It was an open door, the ideal scenario. Stiles would love it.

But, Derek realised, he still wasn’t up for sharing. Not when it was Stiles. 

‘I thought you and Allison were exclusive,’ said Derek, attempting to change the subject, but mentioning Allison just seemed to rile Lydia up more. He could feel her wetness through his jeans as she ground against him, slowly, torturously. She had far more willpower than he did; all he wanted to do right now was flip her over and fuck her.

‘We are,’ she replied. ‘But Allison occasionally likes some dick. I do too, but it turns out that me watching her works so much better for both of us. Plus, I mean, you’d have to be dead not to love what Stiles can do with his hands. He might be annoying, and way too horny for someone this far past puberty, but,’ she made a happy noise as Derek tweaked her nipple, thrusting up against her slightly, ‘that boy is _diamonds_ with his hands. And his … mouth.’ Lydia finally sounded like she was in some difficulty now.

‘You like his mouth, Lydia,’ Derek muttered against her neck, kissing it gently. ‘You want me to get _you_ warmed up?’

Lydia was, finally, gorgeously, ready for him. Derek reached beneath her to unzip his jeans and pull his dick out. She lifted her ass slightly as he pushed her underwear out of the way, and then sank down on to him with a soft cry. Her back was pressed to his chest as he pulled her close, leaning back slightly so he could fuck up into her. She was soaking, and so hot and tight, her legs bent back so she could rock herself back on to him. Both of Derek’s hands came around to squeeze her breasts, slipping under the bra and feeling her hot, smooth skin beneath his fingers. Lydia was making tiny, beautiful noises as she bounced on his cock, and Derek rose to meet her with every thrust, fucking into her as best he could until he came, muffling his cry in her hair as he spilled his hot come inside of her. Lydia moaned as the strength of his orgasm made his hands tighten on her. She rocked back against him as his thrusts slowed, and finally stilled. 

Somewhere in the back of Derek’s brain, he realised that Lydia hadn’t come, even though there was almost as much of her juice on his legs as his own. But she rose smoothly from his cock, looking hungrily at Allison and Stiles, and Derek realised he really had just been the warm up act. 

‘Thanks,’ she said, smiling down at him over her shoulder. ‘I guess you deserve a free show, this time.’ The insides of her thighs were distractingly wet, and Derek watching, transfixed, as she slipped her underwear back into place, and made her way over to where Allison was moaning for her. 

Derek watched, in something of a daze, as Lydia bent over Allison, whispering to her and kissing her softly. Stiles was teasing Allison with his cock now, looking just about as desperate as she was. But they were waiting for Lydia’s say-so and damn, if that wasn’t the hottest thing. Derek buttoned up his jeans, but had a feeling that he might come to undo that decision shortly. 

Stiles was sucking on Allison’s nipple now, and eyeing Lydia eagerly. Lydia leaned over Allison too, taking her other nipple into her mouth. Allison writhed and bucked, voice getting hoarse as she begged for it. Stiles was still shallow-fucking her, panting over her breasts as he restrained from plunging in. Lydia grabbed his chin and captured his mouth in a hot, deep kiss. Derek felt the most irrational twinge of jealousy, considering he’d just been balls deep in Lydia.

That, apparently, was the signal Stiles had been waiting for. He thrust his cock into Allison, as Lydia pressed their mouths together to swallow Allison’s cry. Stiles set up a steady pace as he fucked her, Allison wrapping her legs around his waist, though they soon began to slip. Stiles reached under and propped her legs up on his shoulders without skipping a beat, and Derek felt his dick twitch, impossibly, inside his jeans. 

Lydia was giving instructions now. ‘Fuck her harder,’ she was saying, as she massaged Allison’s breasts. ‘Go faster.’ Stiles picked up the face, and Allison was making little punched-out noises of pleasure. She was barely hanging on to the side of the desk, one hand trying feebly to grab at Lydia. 

‘Grab her ass,’ Lydia growled, letting her hand snake down Allison’s body to her clit. Whatever she did down there caused Stiles’s fingers to tighten visibly on Allison’s ass, and they both groaned loudly. Stiles began to pick up the pace and Allison thrust her hips up to meet him. All Derek could hear was the slapping of their skin, and Lydia’s commands to fuck her faster, harder. Her hand continued to move on them both, and Stiles was looking so close now.

Derek rubbed at himself absentmindedly, not entirely surprised to find a weak semi down there. 

Lydia suddenly told Stiles to pull back, so she could rub Allison’s clit better, and now that he was standing upright Derek could see Stiles’s face more clearly. He was flushed and sweating and so unbelievably gorgeous that for a moment Derek couldn’t breathe. His heartbeat spiked painfully in his chest and his dick tried valiantly to respond. 

Stiles looked to be pulling himself back from the edge with some difficulty, so lost as he was in the heat of sex. He flung his head back as Lydia’s hand did something particularly cruel, and for a moment his eyes found Derek.

Their gaze held, clinging, like something slick and hot and tangible. And amazingly, Stiles was able to slow his pace. He stared at Derek as he fucked into Allison, slow, but hard, making her bounce slightly on the table and cry out at each thrust. Derek wondered how close he could push Stiles to that edge before they both tumbled right over it, together. 

Between Lydia’s hand and Stiles’s cock, they made Allison come with a shriek. Lydia whispered to them both the whole way through, rubbing Allison’s clit in time to Stiles’s thrusts until she was coming, half rising off the table in ecstasy. Stiles held her down and fucked her through it, Lydia kissing her breasts and neck, one hand still between Allison’s slick thighs. They fell to kissing her and stroking her, and Derek thought it was all over. 

Malia and Kira stumbled out of the bathroom, soaking wet and giggling. Kira’s legs were trembling; Malia was practically holding her up. She set Kira down beside Derek and kissed her sloppily. Kira pushed at her legs, grinning. Malia, clearly still feeling feisty, bounded up on to the bed to see what Scott and Isaac were doing. 

Kira picked up the discarded joint from where it was resting against the tequila bottle.

‘Got a light?’ she asked, voice utterly wrecked. 

Derek blinked, then dug one out of his pocket - Stiles’s stupid paw print lighter, _again_. He passed it to Kira, who attempted to light it a few times with roughly no success, since her arms were trembling just as bad as her legs. Derek raised his eyebrows. 

‘Want help?’

‘Please.’

Derek took the joint from her and lit it. He inhaled to get it going, and nearly choked when he caught sight of the three at the table again. 

This time, Stiles was on his back. Lydia was riding his dick, and Allison was sitting on his face, his hands clasping her thighs. She had her head thrown back, eyes closed, and her hands were roaming over her own breasts as Stiles was, presumably, putting that tongue to good use.

‘Holy shit,’ Derek muttered. Lydia was riding Stiles like a pro, one hand in her hair and the other pressed to his chest, occasionally flicking his nipples and giggling when it made Stiles buck his hips up into her. Allison leaned forward slightly, and Lydia met her in the middle over Stiles to gasp into her mouth. 

Kira was watching too, mouth slightly open. 

‘Wow,’ she murmured. Derek hoped she was still watching them, because his hand was creeping, unbidden, down to his pants. Stiles’s hips looked so powerful, thrusting up into Lydia. His arms - were they always that strong? So broad-shouldered? - gripped Allison’s legs tightly, tensing every few moments as Lydia rocked down on to him, or played with his nipples. He was mesmerising. He was literally fucking them both at the same time and by the looks on their faces, he was doing a pretty good job of it.

And Derek had been _resisting_ this _?_ He didn’t deserve his own cock, which was currently hard and out and in his hand. Fuck everything. 

Kira called Malia’s name a few times, quietly, still staring at the table. Derek knew she wouldn’t respond; she was in between Scott and Isaac, getting fucked from both ends. God, that girl had stamina. 

Allison came again, falling forward with a cry and catching herself on Lydia, who held her up. Allison recovered quickly and hopped off Stiles, going around to stand behind Lydia. She wrapped herself around her girlfriend, grabbing her breasts and kissing her neck, murmuring into her ear. Lydia’s face was exquisite, mouth open in a silent cry as she rode him. Stiles grabbed Lydia’s ass and thrust up into her in four sharp, hard movements, and she came silently, head thrown back on to Allison’s shoulder. Allison kissed her, hard, and moved back quickly. Lydia dropped down on to Stiles’s chest, breathing fast, and Stiles immediately got a hand around her and flipped them, so she was pressed to the table beneath him. Burying his face in the crook of her neck, Stiles pinned her arms above her head and thrust into her, hard and fast, making her shriek as she kept coming, clenching her legs around him. The desk rocked back and forth slightly as he slammed into her, desperate and relentless, hips hitting the soft backs of her thighs with bruising force, until he gave one final, brutal thrust and came with a shout, his orgasm ripping through him. 

Kira’s hand had found Derek’s cock and was stroking him, slightly uncoordinated but in earnest. He’d shifted down slightly to allow her better access, and as he did so, she’d thrown herself over him and buried her face in his neck, slipping down on to his cock like it was nothing. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, already soaking wet and ready for him, thanks to Malia’s attentions, and all they both needed was for Derek to thrust into her for a few short, rough moments, until they were both tensing and spasming, coming almost painfully so soon after the last time. They clung to each other briefly before Kira kissed his neck and rolled off. Derek had been staring at Stiles’s clenched ass driving into Lydia the whole time. 

The tension in the room was beginning to wind down. A brief flurry of rough, wild fucking on the bed had boiled down to a wrecked Malia being cuddled between the two boys, who were kissing her gently and cleaning her with the sheets - _Derek’s_ sheets. Lydia was leading a trembling Allison to the shower, and Kira was crawling up to the bed to find Malia. Scott reached up and pulled her down on top of them; there was a ripple of tired laughter and murmuring before someone pulled the comforter over the lot of them. 

Stiles was still staggering up from the table, looking exhausted but extremely pleased with himself. 

‘I do not deserve those ladies,’ he said quietly, to no one in particular, as he wiped his face with someone’s t-shirt. 

Derek had to agree. He tucked himself away for the second time, and reached for the joint. There seemed to be nothing better to do now. 

Stiles was shrugging on Derek’s clothes - loose sweatpants and a t-shirt that had once been a regular gym t-shirt for Derek, but was a bit small for him now. He came to sit beside him, and it felt weirdly appropriate that it was them left standing, sitting beside each other against the wardrobe in a companionable post-orgasm haze. It wasn’t awkward, not anymore. 

Derek offered Stiles the tequila, which he refused, and the smouldering joint, which he gladly accepted. There didn’t seem to be much to say. 

Finally, Stiles looked over at Derek. 

‘Next time?’ he asked, and there was something so quite and small and hopeful in his voice that all Derek wanted to do was hold him. 

But instead he just nodded, in what he hoped was an enthusiastic enough response. Stiles nodded too, looking a bit pleased, so maybe it was enough.

Stiles fell asleep with his head on Derek’s shoulder. Best part of the night, in Derek’s opinion.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /very/ serious apologies to anyone who works in an IKEA

Stiles was late for work the following Friday on account of Scott being _extremely_ frisky in the morning (and Stiles being too impatient to wait for his turn in the shower). As a consequence, he was made to stay late and work in the homeware section all by himself while the rest of the staff in that section got to knock off early. Malia and Isaac gave him sympathetic looks as they waved goodbye, heading home to Scott, who had a day off. They were probably going to have sex. Stiles was very cross about it all. 

There were still customers wandering around even at 7pm, and a couple of staff members starting the inventory early. Stiles had to unpack a whole bunch of new toasters and haul the unsold older models off to storage. It was backbreaking work and he was so very over the whole thing. 

The lights were off in his section, indicating that work was going on in the room, but Stiles wasn’t surprised when he heard footsteps behind him. Customers literally paid no heed to signs or obvious hints that a section was closed, and usually wandered wherever the fuck they wanted until a staff member politely told them to get lost. Stiles turned around, already well past irritated, and was surprised to see a very welcome hunk of werewolf lurking in the shadows. 

Derek didn’t speak, only leaned against one of the display cabinets, hands in his pockets. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but he might as well have been naked for frantic beating of Stiles’s heart.

‘What are you doing here?’ asked Stiles, quietly. Ready player one. 

Derek shrugged. ‘Me? I’m just here to buy a toaster.’

Ready player two. 

Stiles turned around fully to face him, stepping out from among his pile of boxes. 

‘Oh really?’

Derek nodded. ‘Yeah. You burnt five poptarts in the last one, remember?’

Stiles did remember. He’d made them breakfast the morning after the party. Which of course brought back memories of the night of the party. His stomach grew warm. How sneaky. 

‘Oh yeah,’ Stiles agreed, smiling slightly. ‘I remember now. They were _really_ good poptarts though. Some of the best I’ve ever had.’

Derek hesitated just a moment, before reengaging. ‘So, can you recommend a good … toaster?’

Stiles could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. He was almost scared to reach out for it, now that it was in sight, but all he needed one more look at Derek in those tight jeans, and a quick scan of his prime spank bank material that largely featured Derek stroking himself as he stared at Stiles fucking Allison. Yeah, this was happening. 

He shifted his feet slightly, already glad that time constraints had forced him to restrain Scott this morning in his efforts to fuck him against the shower wall. This was going to be huge, literally. He wanted to get the full experience. 

‘Sure,’ he said easily. ‘If you’ll just follow me to where I’ve spent the last three hours stacking toasters …’

Derek dutifully pushed himself upright and sauntered over to Stiles, who felt his whole body heating up as Derek’s eyes roamed over him hungrily. He was just about to start explaining the toasters - sometimes the urge to sell clouded his thinking process, thanks IKEA - when Derek crowded him up against the big blue fridge that Stiles had often fantasised about being crowded against. 

‘I mean, sure, this is great,’ murmured Stiles, as Derek got all up in his space until their noses were almost touching. ‘But maybe you’re in the market for something … bigger. Maybe more flexible? Or something bendy.’

Derek’s gaze flickered briefly, a tiny crease between his eyebrows. ‘I don’t know if I want my toaster to be - wait no, ok, sorry, um - yeah, bendy would be … good?’

Stiles pressed his lips together to prevent a startled laugh. ‘Aw Derek, dude, I really appreciate this but - I mean, if this isn’t something that you’re into, we don’t have to do this part.’

Derek froze. ‘What?’

Stiles put one hand up to cup Derek’s cheek, fondly. ‘Seriously, it’s enough that you’re here. It’s enough that you tried.’

‘But … this is what you like?’ Derek said, confused. ‘This kind of, um, thing.’

‘Well yeah, the hideously corny kitchen appliance euphemisms are always great, and dude, _great_ setting, you get major points for that. But Derek, you have to know by now that it was always just about you. Like, you got me.’

‘I … got you?’ Derek had shifted back a little, to better get a look at Stiles’s face, as though he was missing something. 

Stiles nodded, shrugging. ‘Yeah, you win. I want you more than I want sex. It’s official.’

Derek looked like Stiles had just told him he’d won the lottery. 

‘But you spent so long _torturing_ me!’ he exclaimed, and they both winced at how loud his voice suddenly went. 

‘I wasn’t torturing you,’ Stiles laughed in amazement, but quietly. He pulled Derek back towards him, nuzzling his cheek. ‘I was _tempting_ you. And you fucking held you. You were the one torturing me, you idiot.’

Derek’s body felt like it was sagging against him in relief, and Stiles felt slightly guilty.

‘Hey,’ he said softly. ‘I’m sorry if this was like, pressuring you, or something. It’s not the first time I’ve been more trouble than I’m worth.’

Derek shook his head. ‘You’re worth it,’ he murmured. ‘And hey, sometimes pressure is good. That’s how you get diamonds.’

Stiles gaped in amazement, and then smiled so wide he thought his face would split in half. He kissed Derek full on the mouth without really meaning too, and then deepened it when he realised that they were finally, really kissing. 

Derek practically sunk into the kiss with a barely suppressed groan of relief. Their bodies pressed softly against one another as they revelled in finally touching with intent. Suddenly Derek froze.

‘Wait, you do still want to do this, right?’

Stiles pulled back and glared at him incredulously. ‘Are you kidding? I’m _at work_ , Derek. How could I waste this opportunity? Bend me over that goddamn washing machine like immediately.’

Derek nearly bumped their heads together in his eagerness to kiss Stiles again. This time there was no messing about; he wrapped his arms around Stiles’s body, pulling them flush together. Stiles could hear the sound of two people discussing the price of kettles about four feet away, on the other side of the display. His cock was well on the way to being at full mast, and he thrust his hips upward to inform Derek of this fact. 

‘I don’t know where you get your stamina, but I love it,’ Derek murmured against his mouth, grinding crotch against Stiles’s. He was already hard. He must have walked here bowlegged, Stiles thought with amusement. That amusement was quickly stifled as Derek pressed harder; a soft moan slipped out from between Stiles’s lips.

They both paused, breathing heavily, to see if the voices paused too. They didn’t.

‘We’re making out to the pros and cons of steam versus electric,’ Derek whispered.

‘I know. Isn’t it great?’

They kissed again, and Stiles meant business this time. Public scenario or not, this was serious. If his manager - or _anyone_ \- caught them, he’d be fired. Maybe sued, depending on what stage of proceedings he was caught in. That wasn’t even the worst part though. What if this was a once off? What if getting caught spooked Derek so bad he could never get hard again. That would be a _catastrophe._ Stiles could get another job (though maybe not in the tristate area, if someone caught a glimpse of his ass). He couldn’t get another Derek. 

Derek might have been thinking along the same lines, or he was just really horny. His hands were fumbling at Stiles’s jeans now, slipping under his overly-long uniform t-shirt to palm his stomach before sliding down the front of his pants, into his underwear. Stiles hissed and grabbed Derek’s shoulders - shit, they were _broad -_ holding on as Derek stroked him. There wasn’t a whole lot of room to manoeuvre, but Stiles was resigned to the fact that this wasn’t going to be the most sophisticated fuck ever. 

He was just about to get down on his knees when Derek beat him to it. Stiles almost got dizzy at the sight of Derek kneeling before him, looking up at him with those fucking gorgeous eyes, licking his lips as he took Stiles’s cock out of his pants fully. He pressed his lips gently to the head, tongue flicking out to brush the tip every so slightly, and Stiles’s breathing hitched in his throat. His palms were pressed flat to the fridge, to stop himself from grabbing Derek’s hair and pushing the fuck in.

Stiles had thought Derek would want to get this over with quickly, spurred on by the risk of being caught (like Stiles was) but somehow the fucker was cool and calm even in this. Well, _his_ job wasn’t on the line. Maybe Stiles would have to pay another visit to the gym. 

Derek had most of Stiles’s cock down his throat, and what he lacked in experience he made up for in sheer, boundless enthusiasm. Stiles actually didn’t know how many tongues were in Derek’s mouth but there seemed to be a fucking lot of them. He grabbed Derek’s hair and tried to smother a moan against the back of his other hand. He bit his knuckles as Derek slipped his mouth further down, his hand coming up to delicately finger Stiles’s balls. It was a fucking _travesty_ that they hadn’t been doing this for weeks already, months even.

‘Shit, oh god,’ Stiles breathed, screwing up his face. ‘Fuck.’ He bit his lip, whining quietly. Derek used his free hand to slowly jerk him off as his mouth worked on the top of Stiles’s dick. Having someone as phenomenally hot and addictive as Derek Hale sucking on his penis like it was candy was so intoxicating that Stiles felt drunk.

The hand not feverishly tangling itself in Derek’s hair was reaching around to slip down Stiles’s jeans. He wanted to try getting himself worked open for Derek, because this was gonna have to be fast. He probed gently, winced, then sucked on his fingers a few times to get them slicked up before trying again. The movement cause him to thrust forward slightly into Derek’s mouth, and Derek made a muffled noise of protest before pausing, and then blinking up at Stiles, questioningly. 

‘Dude, I’m not gonna last,’ Stiles panted. ‘God, I want you inside me.’

While Stiles could happily have stared at Derek’s mouth impaled on his cock for _literally ever_ , there was a job to be done here. 

‘God you’re so - ugh, _fuck_. Quick, over there.’ Stiles pointed wildly to the washing machine he’d fantasised about weeks ago, unable to believe that it was finally happening. He wished they had more time. He wished there was less people around, so he could be louder. He wished he might not potentially get fired for this, because he kind of liked being able to afford food.

Derek was worth it though. Stiles’s stomach flipped and burned as Derek ushered him over to the washing machine, his jeans halfway to his knees, cock wet and leaking precome. Stiles let Derek bend him over the machine, and delighted privately in the fact that yes, it absolutely was waist height. 

Derek’s fingers slipped down to Stiles’s hole and pressed gently, before kneading his cheeks and spreading them. He spit, and Stiles shivered as he felt the cool saliva slip down over his hole. There was a pause, and a quiet _pop_ , and Stiles heard the familiar sound of a handful of fingers being slicked up. 

Stiles wasn’t sure how much Derek knew about fingering buttholes, but he knew enough to go so slowly that Stiles was positively bucking back on to his fingers in desperation. Derek crooked the first one inside him and made sharp, quick movements with his wrists that had Stiles biting his knuckles again. High heels clicked by just on the other side of the fridges, and they both froze again in the semi-darkness. They had escaped discovery again, and Stiles felt like if that happened again he might come from just that. 

Derek took that as a signal to add another finger, and Stiles stuffed his fist in his mouth again as Derek quickened the motion of his wrist. There were small, wet noises echoing around the small display unit as Derek held him down with one strong arm. 

Derek added a third finger almost immediately after the second, and Stiles hissed at the burn, grabbing Derek’s hand roughly. 

‘Stop?’

‘No,’ Stiles moaned, almost in tears. ‘No, god, keep going. I need you to fuck me. I can take it, come on.’

Derek took Stiles at his word, jamming his fingers inside him roughly until Stiles was slick and dripping all over the washing machine. The movement was causing Derek’s hand to brush against his balls, creating the perfect pleasurable contrast to the agonising burn of his asshole. 

‘Derek, fuck, please’ whispered Stiles. ‘Please, fuck me.’ The words were forced out of him with every thrust of Derek’s fingers, which were now scissoring inside of him, stretching him beyond anything Scott or Isaac had done to him before. ‘I’m ready, just fuck me.’

‘I need to make sure,’ Derek whispered back, ‘that there’s enough room.’

If Derek was any bigger than three fingers, Stiles was going to break, and he’d break happily. With that thought in mind, Stiles almost froze up when he felt Derek’s fingers withdraw, and heard the slick, wet noises of Derek coating his cock with lube. He couldn’t see anything because of the darkness and his position. All he could see was the light coming from the other side of the display, under the small gaps in the cupboards, and the occasional darkness as someone walked by. He was going to lose his mind if Derek didn’t fuck him fast. 

Derek’s hand, hot and wet and clearly just out of Stiles’s ass, clamped itself over Stiles’s mouth, a moment before Derek’s cock started to push in. Three fingers, _fuck_ , more like a whole fucking fist. Stiles tried desperately not to tense up too much but there was a whole lot of burn, and Derek wasn’t letting up. He continued to push in, pausing every few seconds to let Stiles breath through it, hand still pressed over his mouth. Derek’s breathing was loud; he attempted to silence it every time he stopped to let Stiles cope with the sheer volume of dick in his ass, but when he started to push in again it would pick up. 

Derek bottomed out, balls flush against Stiles’s ass, and there was a moment where they just clutched each other and breathed, caught in a silent moment that was just for the two of them. Stiles couldn’t believe they were finally here.

Then Derek pulled out halfway only to slam back in again, and Stiles fully believed it. 

With one hand pressed over Stiles’s mouth, and the other firm on his ass, Derek fucked into him, slowly, but with a force that sent Stiles rocking forward, whimpering, with every thrust. His fingers scrabbled for purchase on the flat washing machine surface. He wanted to reach down and jerk off, but there was no way of reaching his dick, pinned down as he was. There was just so _much_ of Derek inside of him; Stiles could hardly think, let alone organise a search and rescue mission for his dick. 

Derek leaned over him, the hand on his ass coming up to press over Stiles’s where it was flat against the machine, the other coming down on his shoulder. He started to pick up speed, making little grunts as Stiles whined, Derek’s weight heavy upon him. Stiles dropped down hard on to his elbows, the clang startling them both. Derek eased off on his shoulder and wrapped his arm instead around Stiles’s chest, pressing his face into the crook of his neck as he thrust into him, skin slapping loudly. Almost too loudly. Stiles’s heart was pounding; sweat slipped down his neck and Derek only fucked him harder, thrusts becoming shorter, quicker. The burn was only increasing as he remained almost balls deep, body pressing hard against Stiles’s, every muscle tensed, holding him close and filling him up. Stiles couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t Derek. His arms held him, his back pressed against him, his dick was so goddamn huge inside of him that he seemed to be mostly Derek, hardly any Stiles. God, that was so very fine with him. 

Stiles gasped as Derek hit his prostate, the gasp teetering off into a groan that had to be muffled quickly by Derek’s hand. He was close now, so close to coming from just the slam of Derek’s cock against his prostate. His muffled whimpers came with every slap of Derek’s ass against him, almost too fast for Stiles to fully breathe through them. His desperate gasps came in cut-off huffs against the palm of Derek’s hand.

‘You like my cock inside you?’ Derek whispered. Stiles would have groaned if he’d had any breath left at all. Derek was fucking him too hard for speech or any kind of thought. He held him firmly underneath him, at the mercy of everything Derek had to give, as he whispered into his ear. ‘Your ass is so fucking good. You’re so beautiful like this, bent over for me. I want to have you in every goddamn room. I’ll fuck you in the shower, in the kitchen, on the fucking floor. Are you gonna come for me, Stiles? I’m gonna come inside you. Gonna fill you up, again and again. Fuck, you’re amazing.’

Stiles was past coherence. Their sex was desperate, rough, and wild. And it had practically nothing to do with where they were anymore. 

Derek came with a startled gasp, like he hadn’t been expecting it. Stiles almost buckled as his weight increased, momentarily stunned and weak, as his orgasm crashed through him. Stiles could feel his hot come filling him up inside, trickling down ever so slowly out of him as Derek pulled out, panting. He tried to turn around, but Derek held him down.

‘Don’t you dare,’ he whispered, and Stiles jumped with surprise as Derek hand slipped around to his dick. Stiles writhed, almost too sensitive to be touched, put Derek’s hand stayed firm on his shoulder, holding him in place as he stroked him, torturously, and _this_ was what real vengeance felt like.

‘Derek,’ Stiles whimpered, hands fisted in his own hair, washing machine cold against his cheek. ‘Derek, please, god, oh please.’

Derek pressed a kiss to Stiles’s neck, and swiped the tip of his thumb over the head of Stiles’s cock a few times, followed by three more swift strokes, and Stiles nearly cried out as his orgasm filled him, toppling him over the edge where he could only see stars, could only feel Derek stroking him through it, kissing his exposed skin and whispering that he was beautiful. 

It took a solid few minutes for Stiles’s vision to properly return. He peeled himself off the washing machine with great difficulty, turning around to Derek, who was still breathing hard and looking at him like he’d never seen him before.

‘You’re amazing,’ Derek said blankly. Stiles smiled lazily, so utterly happy he could hardly believe it, and flopped against him, throwing his hands around his neck and kissing him slowly. 

‘You were definitely worth the wait,’ he murmured, inhaling deeply the smell of sweat and sex and Derek (those last two were nearly indistinguishable). ‘God, you’re so lovely and warm. I could sleep on you.’

‘Wouldn’t that require a bed?’ murmured Derek, teasing, wrapping his arms around Stiles. This was almost cuddling - as much as you could appropriately cuddle in the appliances section of an IKEA after you’d had the life fucked out of you on a washing machine. ‘I thought Stiles Stilinski only did cars, or park benches, or whatever.’

Stiles snorted. ‘Shut up,’ he muttered, smiling. ‘You know, this kind of made me think. What would you be able to do to me, if we had more time?’

Derek hummed thoughtfully, rubbing Stiles’s back. ‘Is that an invitation to an actual real bed with you?’

Stiles shrugged. ‘Might be,’ he mumbled, face pressed into Derek’s shoulder. ‘Would that be something you’re interested in? Say on a semi-regular to maybe like nightly basis? Morning too. And afternoon, I mean, if you want.’

Derek caught Stiles’s face between his hands, and looked at him intently. ‘I don’t want to make you do things that _you_ ’ _re_ not entirely comfortable with,’ he said seriously. ‘If this kind of scenario is what does it best for you, then I can work with that. Honestly, I can.’

Stiles smiled with difficulty; really, he kind of wanted to cry. He placed his hands over Derek’s trying to convey as much sincerity as he could when he said, ‘Derek, you’re all the adrenalin I’ll ever need. All this time, I thought I was searching for the perfect place, the perfect setting, or whatever. But what the hell is a location worth when it’s you who’s holding me?’

Derek’s face was soft, more vulnerable than Stiles had ever seen it.

‘I guess that pressure really paid off,’ he murmured, stroking Stiles’s face like he’d never seen anything else worthy of touching. ‘I never thought I’d work up the nerve to come up here. But seeing you the other night … I couldn’t believe what I’d been missing out on. I couldn’t let anyone else have you, not when I still hadn’t so much as _touched_ you.’

Stiles smiled, leaning into Derek’s touch and closing his eyes briefly. He felt warm, and incredibly safe. 

‘Well, I’m glad all my hard work paid off,’ he said, looking up at Derek. The space between them felt very new, and untouched, and so exciting. Stiles couldn’t wait to leap right into it, with Derek by his side.

 They kissed like they’d been recognising each other’s longing for each other all their lives. It was so natural, how had it not happened a thousand times before this? They kissed like it was all they’d ever wanted to do. And really, it was. 

‘Oh no,’ Stiles said quietly, a few minutes later.

‘What?’ Derek was still a little drunk on Stiles, pressing lazy, uncoordinated kisses to his face, a silly smile on his face.

‘I still have so many toasters to unpack,’ he whispered, horrified. ‘And there’s come on my t-shirt.’

Stiles felt Derek’s laughter rumble in his chest between them, and couldn’t help but smile ruefully. 

‘See, this is why public spaces aren’t always so great,’ Derek reminded him, poking him gently in the chest. ‘They tend to get a bit messy. Except before, it was always me cleaning up _your_ messes. You owe me a new writing desk, by the way.’

‘I’ll never be able to get it for you if I get fired from here,’ Stiles said, gazing around sadly at the boxes of toasters everywhere. ‘I guess I’d better get started … Oh god, I’m so tired. This is all your fault.’

‘Hang on,’ said Derek quickly. ‘I have a better idea.’

Which is how Stiles ended up almost asleep in Derek’s arms, curled against him in a princess lift as Derek walked importantly out of IKEA, informing Stiles’s concerned manager that he’d found him passed out amongst the kettles, it looked like he’d hit his head, probably best to get him out of there quickly, take him to the A&E, hopefully he won’t sue, etc, etc. Stiles had to bite his lip a few times; Derek was quite good at talking out of his ass. 

‘Can you carry me the rest of the way please,’ Stiles mumbled against his chest, once they were safely outside. There was a bubble of laughter building up inside of him, almost hysterical; he couldn’t believe Derek had actually pulled a Stiles-level of bullshit theatrics. 

Derek snorted. ‘No. People are staring.’

‘People probably stared at you the whole way out of the store,’ Stiles pointed out, peeking up at him.

‘You weigh a ton,’ Derek complained. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. ‘No I don’t.’

Derek hefted him a bit. ‘Yeah you don’t, you’re so scrawny.’

‘Piggy back?’ Stiles suggested. Derek nodded amiably, and Stiles wriggled out of his arms excitedly. Derek crouched down and Stiles hopped up on his back, snuggling into him. Derek kissed the back of his hand before starting off, showing literally no signs of exhaustion, whereas Stiles thought he might actually have trouble holding on for more than a few blocks, he was so tired. 

‘Where to?’ Derek asked. 

‘Is that a “your place or mine” question?’

Derek paused. ‘It could be,’ he allowed. ‘But don’t you wanna go home and change?’

‘My place then,’ Stiles said happily, and Derek laughed. 

‘Ok fine, but I’m borrowing your toothbrush,’ he informed him. ‘I think we’re there.’

Stiles rolled his eyes. ‘Derek, _please_. If you think I haven’t been prepared for this moment for literally months then you don’t know me at all. There’s been a toothbrush with a bow wrapped around it laid out especially for you since, like, January of last year.’

Derek didn’t have anything to say to this. Instead, he swung Stiles around so they were face to face - Stiles yelped rather unattractively - and pressed their lips together. They were wrapped around each other on the cold street corner, and people were probably staring, but Stiles couldn’t have cared less. This was magic. This was like finding diamonds in your cereal. This was everything he’d been missing in his life.

‘God, I’d carry you anywhere,’ Derek breathed against his lips. 

‘Just my bed is fine,’ Stiles replied, kissing the corner of his mouth. ‘Now there’s a sentence I never thought I’d say. Is this your influence?’ He paused. ‘I guess I’m ok with that if you are.’

‘That’s fine by me,’ Derek smiled. They kissed, and for once nothing else mattered. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and they lived happily ever after
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://coulsonsangels.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/coulsonsangels/), come say hi :)


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